


Freaky Fucking Friday

by Smushed



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bodyswap, Confessions, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Hormones, M/M, Masturbation, Prostate Massage, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-06-14 12:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15388857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smushed/pseuds/Smushed
Summary: Rick has finally decided to perfect the science of body swapping, and Morty is the perfect test subject for his final project.Can Rick handle the hormone addled body?Hilarity and sexual tension ensues.





	1. Manic Monday

“J-just- don’t ask any questions, Morty. Do you trust me? A-actually, don’t answer that. Just get over here, I need to try this out, it’s gonna be great. It’ll be fun, w-w-we can look back and be all ‘Hey, remembOUGH-er that time we switched bodies?’”

It was the usual; the late night sleep interruption. Rick had clawed Morty up from a deep sleep like plucking a cosy, rooted flower from its meadow. As they entered the garage, Rick was manic, setting up the equipment with a certain fluidity that made it look like second nature. Then again, all of Rick's experiments looked like an expansion of thought, a swift movement of limbs to bring together the end result of something probably insane. 

“Switch bodies? W-w-what the hell Rick? I have school tomorrow, can't this _wait_?” All Morty could think about was how Jessica was on the rocks with Brad once again. He had already planned to swoop in there with a smooth pickup line that she would find funny or cute, ‘ _hey, Jessica, got an ugly boyfriend? Want one?_ ’, self deprecating humour was endearing, so Morty told himself from watching that stand up comic once. 

“Why would we wait? Th-this is ready _now_ , baby!” Rick cheered against Morty's objections, wiping his chin of spit with his lab coat sleeve. 

"You've already tried this crap before, w-with Tiny Rick and how you escaped prison, remember? Why do you need to do it again?!” Morty yelled, frown creasing his chin and forehead in frustration. 

“Oh, Jesus _Christ_ , Morty! I-i-if your panties are in that much of a twist, and the last porno you watched pushed that valuable piece of information out of your brain," Rick rolled his eyes, gesturing his long index finger against his temple. "Tiny Rick was _killing_ me, slowly and painfully. A-a-and switching my brain from body to body to escape prison was only _very_ temporary in those hosts.” Rick was in one of those moods, irrational and stubborn, Morty watched his excitement turn into frustration as he continued his rant. 

“W-w-we reside in this puny solar system, we can visit an infinite number of Universes with all the fuckin’ dimensions in between, all inhabited by an incomprehensible diversity o-of species and living organisms and _I_ ended up with the grandson who didn't bat an eyelid a-at switching bodies. Don't you get- didn’t you hear me, Morty? You can be inside _this_ ,” Rick perked up again, gestured to his body with open palms like it was a gift and wiggling his eyebrows before spinning back on his heel to grab a helmet. It was decorated with a spaghetti junction of coloured wires like the most generic Sci-fi bullshit that Morty did not have the energy to be dealing with right now. It was the eleventh night on the run of Rick waking him, he was sleep deprived and Morty was sick of Rick acting like he should be grateful to him for it. 

“Tell me, Rick! Why would I want to be inside the body of a-a-an ancient alcoholic?” Morty snapped. 

Rick’s whole demeanour changed, he dropped his enthusiasm with his hands down by his sides, knuckles white with tension where he held the strange looking helmet, his eye betrayed a flash of hurt but it was quickly replaced with fury.

“W-what the fuck, Morty? And what makes _you_ think I want to be inside the body of a-a pathetic pain-in-the-ass dumb fuckin’ kid like you?” Rick snarled, eyebrows crooked down, punctuating each word with spittle. 

“Fine- th-then that settles it. It’s decided. No body swap.” Morty held his arms out, absolutely done with all of this. A sleep deprived teenager was about as useful as a glass hammer. Morty twisted himself to exit the garage. “Fuck this, I’m going to bed-” 

“No you don’t-” Rick growled and Morty felt the pressure of a strange piece of equipment on his head.

“ _Christ_ , Rick- I said-”

A white light and noise filled the existence like expanding foam, he blacked out into the snowy fuzz. 

Morty slowly blinked reality back into place like wiping the fog away from a steamed windscreen, it took a few moments but he eventually came to fully. He was slightly dizzy as he sat up and groaned, a foreign deep gutteral sound vibrated through his skull, and with the realisation, a rage bubbled from his belly. He saw his own body on the ground ahead of him.

“Rick! W-w-what have you done?!” His grandpa’s voice sounded instead of his own, and it was strange and aggravating, Morty took an opportunity to glance down at Rick’s body. There was an ache in his left thigh and the small of his back felt like it needed to click. He stumbled to his feet and felt the buzz of alcohol. He pat down  his new bony hips through the lab coat, patted his chest and checked out his long fingers by splaying them put in front of his face. 

“Like what you see, Morty?” Rick chanted, Morty watched his teenage body get up off the floor with a smug smile on his face. 

“You fucking asshole!” Morty strode towards him, watching Rick host his body with such an immature smirk unfurled the coiling fury in his gut. He towered over his smaller frame, not stupid enough to damage his own body even through the mist of anger, he ripped the helmet off his brown head and threw it on the floor. 

“Morty--NO!” Rick's eyes widened in shock as he looked down at the smashed helmet, the shock contorted into a snarl of grit teeth. “Y-y-you fucking idiot, oh my God, Morty what the FUCK.” Rick, apparently, wasn't bothered about damaging his own body, because he mounted Morty, knocking him over again and began punching him in the face. 

Morty yelled at the impact of falling onto the floor, Rick's bony hips twinging in protest and he felt the swirl of stars silence his vision for a moment from Rick's swing. Morty grabbed the small wrists, and easily held him back. He never realised until just now how much stronger Rick was than him. 

Rick was seething in the teenage body astride his waist, the telltale spittle down his chin and eyes rabid as he looked at Morty. Morty, on the other hand, had calmed down quickly. The pain bringing him back to his senses, _he just fucking broke the thing that would switch them back._

The silence was thick in the air, Rick's panting in Morty's body was slowing, Morty kept hold of his wrists and eventually broke the silence. 

“Fuck, Rick… W-what are we gonna do?”

“ _We_ aren't doing shit, Morty. It took _me_ eleven days to put this all together, i-i-it's gonna take _me_ even longer to fix it- with all the bull shit that comes with this.” Rick's head tilted in a circle, outlining them both, eyes scanning this fucking mess Morty got them into. Well, Rick got them into it first. He said no and he went and put it on his head anyway. Morty decided not to mention that yet. 

Morty let go of his own wrists and lay still, letting Rick climb off of him. He watched himself go over to his work bench and place his palms flat on the surface, shoulders hunched, head down. 

Now that Morty wasn't sleep deprived, being in Rick's alcohol buzzed body, he actually felt bad. A strange numb guilt and indifference was underlying his thoughts. 

Morty sat up and groaned as he clicked his hip. “Rick-”

“Don't. Just…” Rick sighed a long and exasperated sigh, looking up but not back at Morty. Not back at his own body. “Just, go to bed. You'll have to stay in my room, so no one gets suspicious.” 

 


	2. Terrible Tuesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just putting this here to be safe. A mild warning that this chapter may contain elements that can be interpreted as dubious consent. Thank you for all your support, it means a lot!

Rick couldn't sleep in this rampant teenage body, it was wracking his mind. It didn't help that he wasn't in his own room, he was in Morty's mundane teenage one.

He felt sticky and irate.

Rick flipped the covers from his new younger body and the cool breeze was welcome against the burning arousal, which emanated from him like the ripples of a heat mirage on tarmac during a peak summer's day.

He had tried so hard to _not think about it,_ but the tent in Morty's pyjamas was leaving him vexed. He itched the skin on his arms as a failed attempt at a distraction, what he didn't want to do was go touching Morty's dick. But it was blocking any chance at sleep and he had to fix this huge fuck up, no wonder Morty was such an asshole before, he could feel that his body really was exhausted.

He groaned in frustration and caved into his annoyance, letting Morty's soft little inexperienced hand smooth under the fabric of his thin pants and past the hairs and _oh,_ Rick felt immediate relief at the friction.

 _I just won't look,_ Rick reassured himself pointlessly. Fuck, it felt good. Rick couldn't remember jerking off ever feeling like this. It was good but not _as_ good as it could be. Rick had a plethora of experience, hundreds of sexual encounters and images snapshotted in his mind. He knew that this was just about as vanilla and _boring_ as jerking off could get. He focused on the task at hand, letting his mind wonder too much could cost Morty's virgin body to spontaneously combust.

After a few lazy pumps he tossed his head back into the pillow. The fatigue mixed with Rick's reluctance was making this tedious, but his arousal was gaining momentum as the horny teenager inside took over Rick's rationale. With a twist of his hand against the tip he sucked in breath through his teeth, _Christ,_ this kid was sensitive.

He shucked his pants down to get even cooler and was fisting his (Morty's) cock. He made a point of keeping his head back into the pillow but his voyeurism was growing unbearable. Well, _curiosity killed the cat_ … Rick glanced down and the sight made him gasp and moan out a stuttered “F-ffuuuck--”... _Satisfaction brought it back._

That sexual bank of images was wiped completely and what he was seeing quickly shot its way up to the top of his list. It was Morty's flat linear body, youthful glowing abs, the slight muscle tone from their escapades, all flexing and protruding as he jerked off. Jesus fucking Christ, it was like watching a high definition first person porno that he wished he wasn't watching. 

Rick let small noises escape his mouth and it was really fucking him up more than he anticipated. Hearing Morty's voice aroused and needy consumed him, he let them overflow from his panting lips.

The sheets were sticking to his back with his new enthusiasm, the sweat beading across his head, toes curling, more stuttering desperate sounds travelling from his throat to his head to his groin, that's it, that's _it_.

It was the most infuriating and intense masturbation he had ever had. The building orgasm had been pooled in his belly for a long time, since the first panting whimpers escaped this needy throat. It needed to wash over him, bathe him in that post coital glory but instead it just lingered torturously beneath the surface of his conflicting emotions, teasing, unreachable.

“Oh, _Rick-_ -” Just when Rick thought he couldn't get any more fucked up, he decided to go and moan his own fucking name, to hear how it sounded when Morty's body was eager like this. The high tone of Morty's whimpering voice rang through the room and into Rick's core. And like that, his orgasm finally spilled over, come coating his fingers as he pumped through it.

He lay spent and dazed, beautifully blissful for a moment and tried to ride a wave of ignorance that usually came with a teenagers experimental masturbation, but of course Rick's mind wouldn't allow it. His brow furrowed as his eyes closed and his whole body relaxed into the mattress.

“You sick old fuck.” He murmured, as sleep took him.

*

Morty was having a sleepless night, though Rick's body wasn't phased by it, apparently used to the abuse, or rather, had a higher tolerance to it than just losing a few hours sleep. He was starting to get clammy as a headache brewed from the centre of his brain.

His thoughts were running wild. Rick was in Morty's room, in his bed, inside his _body_ . It felt like Rick knew all of his secrets, his most private moments. Of course that wasn't possible. He still couldn't help but wonder if he left any evidence of anything that he didn't want the world to know. That he didn't want _Rick_ to know.

Morty felt the shame underlay his anxiety as though Rick were staring at him naked. Because he could be, he probably was. Morty was breaking into a full sweat now, spiralling into an abyss of toxic thoughts, he couldn't sleep but he wasn't tired anyway. Was this what it was always like in Rick's body? No wonder he was a drunk.

He got up, wiping the sweat from his head, feeling the texture of that wrinkled brow. It was beginning to get light outside. What would Rick do?

He was perspiring over previously dried sweat and _really_ wanted a shower, but he didn't want to invade Rick that way. Sure, he'd seen his grandpa naked. But this was _so different._ It's funny how the first thing he would think of if someone said ‘wow we've switched bodies’ would be to go bash one out, and now Morty was avoiding it like the plague, like it wouldn't be _just_ a quick jerk and that's it. He felt like he would open a can of worms.

So instead, he went to the garage and prayed he wouldn't run into anybody along the way, he was feeling so rough right now. Worse than before, if that was possible. He could just wait here, wait until Rick miraculously fixed the helmet. No breakfast to avoid the family as much as he could, claim he was working on some ‘big science experiment’, could he cope for eleven days? Give or take? He could totally do that, if he didn't die first. 

Morty sat on the chair at Rick's workbench, with his elbows on the table he let Rick's long fingers hold his face. He groaned, that familiar grumbling baritone shuddered through his whole body, he let the fingers feel his features properly.

Morty let the calloused pads of his middle fingers graze the fuzz of that iconic brow, his thumbs gently scroll up that jaw, mapping Rick's face this way was strangely _intimate._ His eyes fluttered closed as his index fingers gently skirted his eyelids. Morty let both of the deft hands moved up into Rick's hair, fingernails carefully tracing along his scalp. It felt glorious against the headache, and Rick's hair was surprisingly soft between his fingers.

“‘Sup dawg?” Morty heard his own voice disembodied and he quickly released Rick's blue hair to spin and face Rick, who was looking fresh and bright. The opposite of how he felt. “Holy fuck, Morty, y-you look like a pile of shit right now.”

“I-I-I feel it, Rick. _Christ,_ i-is this how you feel, like, everyday?” Morty squinted Rick's eyes in strain against the headache, looking genuinely mortified that this could be something Rick felt all the time.

“Ahh, _that,_ that would--that's a hangover, Morty.” Rick laughed, Morty hated hearing his voice not coming from his own throat, it sounded higher pitched to Rick's ears, more annoying. _‘Is that how I always sound? No wonder I'm always pissing him off’_ he thought, as he watched Rick wipe his chin out of habit and head towards Morty.

Morty sat up straighter and bolstered his shoulders, almost the same height as his standing teenage frame even though he was sat down. He braced himself, unsure of what was coming.

Rick opened the lab coat that Morty completely forgot he was wearing, Morty twitched at the hand grazing his chest and Rick froze for a moment before he rolled his eyes as he fished on the inside pocket. He took out some sort of small vial. Rick unscrewed the cap and it was a pipet, oh, eye droppers. “Jeez, Morty. Y-you're so _edgy,_ why don't you go jerk off or something? Worked for me.”

“Wait, what?” Morty frowned, Rick held Morty's chin and tilted his head back but Morty forcefully brought it down to look him in the eyes.

“Keep still -” Rick tilted Morty's chin again and tried to drip one of the droplets in Morty's eye.

“Y-y-you jerked me off?” If Morty had his own voice, that would have come out as a screech, but in Rick's body it was gruff and angry.

“I jerked _myself_ off technically- w-w-will you keep still?! These babies are the whole reason I'm still _alive_. Wipes out a hangover like Abradolf Lincoler killing a party, Morty.” Rick had abandoned the gentle chin grab and instead used his index finger and thumb to pry open the older eyes to see the bloodshot whites clearly. Morty went to fight him off again but huffed and opted to be cured of this gruesome hangover first.

The relief was almost immediate, he felt hydrated and the headache dissipated to be replaced with annoyance.

“Y-y-you can't go around just touching me, Rick! I-it's _my_ body even though you're… you're living in it?!” Morty seethed, hands out by his sides in exasperation, a warmth crawling up his cheeks that made Rick raise a brow at him.

“Yeah? Well i-i-it's _your_ body that is fucking with _me_ , Morty. How do you cope with this--this constant need to jerk off to fucking everything, huh? A-a-and it's not like it has a ten second stamina, like I _thought,_  it's infuriating. I’d have had a quicker time i-if I was using _my_ experienced God-tier hands, Morty!” Rick grabbed Morty's pale wrists and shook his long digits between their faces.

Morty definitely felt the blush simmer up from his chest to his face, with anger, embarrassment and _something else._ He dared not name it.

“Y-y-you're such an asshole Rick. I can't believe y-”

“Listen--w-whatever you have to say, Morty? Don't care. Now move.” Rick did an actual shooing gesture with his hands and Morty didn't hesitate to get out of his chair, out of his presence, he had to get the fuck away from the whole thing.

Morty left the garage, absolutely seething. What else had he expected? Rick to gain all of his anxiety and troubles? No. Just same old Rick in _his_  body _._ He stomped up the stairs and for a second went to automatically walk to his own room before he sighed and turned to Rick's instead. He collapsed onto the cot and rubbed his new old face again. He took a moment to fully appreciate how _simple_ a life his grandpa lived in terms of decor. Just gadgets, equipment and tools, a cot and a lamp.

It was like, science or nothing. Morty spotted a couple of slightly filled bottles of spirits gathered together against the wall of Rick's bedroom. So, it was like: science, alcohol or nothing.

He smirked and went and swiped one from the floor. Rick can do what he wants in Morty's body? Then Morty had unwritten permission to do the same.


	3. Eventful Evening

Rick had managed to convince Beth he was sick by pushing his food around the plate at breakfast and looking like a sad puppy. Unlike Morty, Rick was an excellent liar. Beth believed him with a ruffle of his hair and that was about as far as her maternal affection went.

“Th-thanks, Mom…” Morty’s high pitched whining voice was so handy for this. Maybe this is what the kid inherited from Jerry, the ability to get people to feel sorry for him. Rick shuddered at the idea but fuck it, it was a tool he could use for now.

After breakfast Rick waited in Morty's bedroom for the house to calm after the morning rush. Beth went to work, Summer to school and Jerry was doing whatever stupid shit Jerry did during the hard working day of his family. Rick didn't have a clue what Morty was doing, if he was honest with himself, he was trying to not think about it.

The tortured genius tucked himself away into the garage as soon as he could. Shards of broken plastic lay littered across the concrete like a cartoon car crash. He groaned like the huffy teenager he inhabited as he looked at all the work he had to do, _a-fucking-gain_. Nevertheless, he had to finish what he started, before one of them lost their minds.

Meanwhile, Morty had polished off the couple of ounces of the vodka and started on a dark spiced rum. He surprisingly found the tastes of the spirits weren't that strong to Rick's tongue, he noted that back in his own body, the smell on Rick's breath alone made him recoil with the strength, it reminded him of nail polish remover.

He drank anyway and felt a tingle in his cheeks, that similar fuzziness returned that Mory recognized from when he first transferred into Rick's body. So this was getting drunk?

He wiped the spit from his chin and belched as he thought about the whole concept of getting intoxicated. Morty could certainly see the appeal in the mental relief. It shifted the perspective of the whole situation and made it seem almost laughable, the anger had been diluted with the liquids sloshing in his empty stomach.

Morty stewed in what Rick said this morning. Rick touched his dick, that was so fucked up, wasn't it? It felt like he had just reacted that way because it was the ‘normal’ way to react, sure, he was shocked. It was a situation he couldn't believe he was in but the sentence he never thought he'd say to Rick swirled in his mind: ‘you jerked me off?’.

It stirred something inside of him, he thought a little more about it, shuffling on the bed and clearing his throat of the remnants of rum that coated his oesophagus. The thoughts escalated into a daydream and it was becoming vivid, he scrunched his eyes at the speed of the images catapulting into the forefront of his mind. Rick in his body. Rick jerking him off.

Morty let his imagination run wild, the vodka and rum coaxing them out of him. The conjured images were of himself, back in his own body, instead of him touching himself, Rick’s hands are holding Morty's wrist and hand with firm sure fingers. Rick’s hands guiding Morty’s own down to touch himself, his grandpa had that sweet, cheeky yet sadistic little twinkle in his eye, he could imagine a twitch of a smirk on Rick’s lips.

“What the fuck-” Morty rasped, Rick’s voice tingling his spine and he stood up from Rick’s cot. The speed of him standing made him sway slightly but he grounded himself and held the wall to balance. He shook Rick’s old hands as though flicking off the dirty thoughts like water before making his way down to the garage.

When he entered Morty saw his familiar yellow shirt hunched over the workbench. He was also greeted with the familiarity of Rick’s ignorance.

“Hey-Rick. Uh- c-can I help? With anything, y’know to speed this up.” Morty stammered, sounding more like Doofus Rick than his Rick in tonality.

Eventually Rick waved a hand and then he held his palm up. “H-hand me the glurzo fluid, the purple shit in the jar. It’s in the fridge.” Rick continued working, it looked intricate, he wore a headlamp and had a magnifying glass.

“Sure, Rick, uh, what does it do?” Morty got close and placed it in Rick's open palm. Morty stood tall in Rick's body, it was strange to look down on his teenage body at this angle, like he was an astral projection watching himself in third person.

“It’s a conductive material that’s also organic, I need it to interact like the synapses in a brain, Morty- _Jesus Christ-_ ” Rick turned to frown at him and in no time at all his grandpa had placed down the beaker of fluid and stood up. Before Morty could react Rick had pulled him down by the lab-coat lapels to bring his face closer.

A sound escaped Morty that was so alien to Rick’s throat that the noise looped in his mind a few times. Rick had his nose by Morty’s mouth, tip toeing to smell, Morty was blinded by the headlamp Rick was wearing, the glare forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut.

“How much did you drink?” Rick asked after a particularly large huff, eyes frantically scanning Morty’s face.

“Uh-uh- I- Uh, j-just a little? I mean, you know, you jacked me off so I thought, fair is fair. You always smell like this, i-in fact, you always smell _worse._ ” Morty pushed the headlamp off Rick's head to try and make some sort of eye contact, not being able to see with Rick so close to his mouth left his heart hammering. When the brightness simmered down Morty could finally see Rick hosting his young hazel eyes and he couldn't help but feel a little self conscious at the judgemental stare, his mouth was dry. After what felt like an eternity Rick finally broke the silence.

“Y-your nose, it’s so sensitive-- holy fuck, how do you cope, Morty?” Rick wriggled Morty’s nose and let go of the lapels, glancing at the glurzo fluid and wiping his face to muffle his sigh of exasperation. “That's not--no where near enough, we need more and only I can get some. They'd take one look at a Morty and either want to kill or kidnap you, there’s no in between. They got fucked up real bad by that evil--that eyepatch wearing son-of-a-bitch that time, long story short, you gotta go get it.”

“Me?” Morty placed one of Rick’s hands on his chest.

“Again, technically Morty, you are you, but aesthetically, biologically? You're Rick C-137.”

“I-I know that. But… Do I have to go get the glur- the fluid on my own?”

“Awww, are you spooked, Morty? The big bad interdimensional world scary to you? Well you forget- you're _me_. No one can fuck with Rick Sanchez, Morty.” Rick smiled his eyebrow quirked playfully, Morty would have spotted it as pride but the expression was so foreign on his teenage face he wouldn't have recognised it. “Look, I-I’ll go with you, I just have to wait in the ship.” He shrugged, eyes scanning Morty and seeing his stiff frame. Morty relaxed then.

“Ugh, fine, I guess I'll try.” Morty murmured.

“You won't just try, you'll do it, Morty, or we're stuck like this.” Rick snapped as he poked Morty in the chest.

 

*

 

The landscape was barren and run down; wrappers and dust blew about the floor like a sea of junk. Rick had parked the ship in a parking lot, if you could call one or two faded painted lines a parking lot. The store up ahead was as rough looking at the planes around them, the alien lettering flickering like morse code for ‘this place is dodgy as fuck’.

“Just go in there and tell the big fat guy behind the counter that you need more of his glurzo fluid. Don’t even try and be a-all PC on me, Morty, he is pretty big and there’s nothing wrong with that, y-you know, it’s a part of his genetics as a Quoqui. But he _is_ a grade A asshole, Morty. Just be firm, be an asshole back, pretend to be me. He'll try and charge you more, but don't let him, Morty. There's just enough money in the glove box.”

They needed this fluid, needed it. Morty kept repeating this in his head as he pocketed the cash and exited the ship.

Rick stayed in the vehicle and activated the PTSD-inducing safety feature so it would protect Morty's vulnerable teenage body. Morty took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the store, the little chime came out and he wondered absentmindedly why alien stores had bells above the doors.

Several creatures of all shapes and sizes turned to look at him, but once they figured he was a Rick, some tutted and the rest ignored him. Only one looked a little scared.

“Uh, hey, y-y-you. Big guy.” Morty attempted as he approached the counter.

The guy was huge, immobilized by his size he formed a shape behind the counter like he was a part of the foundations. He was a mound of square shaped bulges with massive eyes, from what Morty could tell he was naked, but nothing untoward was in sight with his gargantuan rolls. He was eating what looked like a bucket of chicken only they were multicolored.

“Ulghgl, Rick Sanchez, why do I have to see you twice in as many Earth Weeks, you're cramping the style of my establishment.”

Morty realised his nerves were taking over his frame so he released his shoulders and attempted his best impression of Rick. He folded his arms and quirked a brow.

“I-I need some more of that purple shit, y’know, the glurzo fluid, and d-don’t act like your style wasn’t already fucking cramped.” Morty spat the words effectively and a sense of pride swelled in him as the guy grunted at his reaction, he gained a little more confidence.

“Seeing as you’re raiding-- _uglg-_ my fucking stock like a vulture, _Sanchez,_ it’s double. I want ten thousand Flurbo.” He gurgled what might have been a laugh.

“A-a-are you fucking kidding me? Same price for the same amount.” Morty snapped, Rick’s voice helping sound assertive even though he was faltering. He was near starting to sweat, he didn’t even count how many Flurbo Rick had given him but he wasn’t sure it was even five thousand.

“Listen, you lanky streak of piss, take it or leave it.” It shuffled, perhaps that was a shrug of some sort of vague idea of his large slumped shoulders.

“You take it or leave it, what kind of customers do you have here anyway? Take my cash and give me the fucking fluid. And w-what kind of insult is that? Coming from you, you fat piece of shit.” Rick's voice was sharp and Morty had let his temper bubble over, perhaps fueled by the little bit of alcohol he’d consumed.

Everything and everyone in the store stopped what they were doing and gasped, glaring over at Morty, who unfolded Rick’s arms. The tension was so thick in the air you could swim through it.

 

*

 

“So, uh- feeling better, Morty?” Jerry smiled to his son who was chewing slowly and purposefully whilst glaring at Morty, who sat stiff as a board in Rick's body. The tension between Rick and Morty was palatable. Beth did her utmost to cut the tension as she swirled her red wine in her glass.

“Y’know what,  _Dad_ ? Not great. I had one simple task today and I couldn't even do that, apparently I’m a jerk that criticizes the weight of beings that are _really_ sensitive about it. Maybe I need to jerk off again, 'cause I'm such a jerk.” Rick spat the word dad like it was toxic, Jerry physically shuffled under the uncomfortable tone and stalled, his brain trying to get back to speed with his own son speaking to him like garbage, and what the hell he was talking about.

Morty was raging, he clung to his fork like it would make Rick shut the fuck up.

“Too much information.” Beth held her hand up to stop her son speaking with her palm outwards in plea while Summer mimed retching in disgust.

“Ignore him, Jerry. I think he's catching that bad attitude from me, a-and y’know, I'm really hard on you. You're a good guy and you deserve better from me, for that, I'm _sorry._ ” Morty looked directly into Rick's eyes as he said sorry to his dad. He didn't really believe what he'd just said but he knew anything nice towards Jerry would play Rick's agitation. Morty wanted to really fuck him up for all the shit he's caused him the past twenty four hours.

Rick grit Morty's young teeth, Morty smirked as he could practically see a vein popping out in his head.

“Thanks, Rick. I think?” Jerry was so unused to compliments from Rick that he didn't know if he was serious or not.

“I mean, yeah, we can totally have an adventure together Jerry. Just the adventures of Jerry and Rick, Rick and Jerry-- for a hundr- _AUGH-_ ” Morty's wind up was cut short by a massive pain in his shin where Rick had kicked him, tears strained his eyes as he nearly face planted his dinner.

“Jerry isn’t going on any fucking adventures, will you shut the fuck up you _idiot--”_ Rick seethed, Morty’s teenage voice cracking under the strain of his anger. He was standing at the table leering towards Morty who was shuddering with the pain in Rick’s body.

“Morty! Did you just kick your grandpa under the table? And don’t you dare speak to Dad like that!” Beth yelled.

“Thanks, honey.” Jerry smiled smugly.

“Not _you,”_ Beth rolled her eyes at Jerry and that triggered the bickering between the Smith husband and wife, giving Morty an opportunity to leave the table, he slunk back to his room to tend to his stinging shin. Rick went to follow him but Beth stopped him.

“And you, young man, are grounded. You’re going to school tomorrow whether you like it or not, now go to your room.” Rick could see his daughter’s exasperation and didn’t bother to make her life any more difficult.

“Okay, Mom.” He said simply, and went up to Morty’s room to keep up this whole facade. He stomped up for effect and as he closed the bedroom door he turned to see Morty sat on the edge of the bed. He had taken off Rick’s tan trousers and was checking out his shin, the older paper-thin skin was already bruising and he hissed as he touched it, looking up in shock at Rick entering his room only to relax again as he realised it was _him_ that was in the wrong room.

Rick walked up to him and knelt to check out the injury pressing Morty’s mouth into a thin line to try and not look guilty. Although it was his body, it was currently Morty experiencing the pain, and the whole situation was still repairable. He was Rick Sanchez, he didn’t need an easy route to the glurzo fluid, Quoqui or not, he could still fix it. Morty went to cover Rick’s dignity.

“Morty don’t be embarrassed, it’s my body afterall.” Rick commented nonchalantly as he inspected the bruise. He had kicked him real fucking hard, but Morty was pushing it too far. Rubbing Jerry’s pathetic sad ego was one thing, but the adventures? For one hundred years? It tore Rick a pain in his chest that he wouldn’t dare confess to. That was just for Rick and Morty, no one else could enter that sacred promise between them.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Rick… I’m sorry I fucked up getting the fluid.” Morty was so disappointed in himself, it was a simple task regardless of how badly it went and the shadow of _we are stuck like this_ hovered in the back of his mind large and heavy with his guilt.

“It’s fine, Morty. I’ll get it another way, don’t worry. Besides, that guy was a real ass, he needed a-a wake up call, anyway. I-I’m just sorry I didn’t get to see his face when you called him a-- what was it? A fat fuck?” Rick smirked.

Morty smiled back at Rick. “Uh- I- I think it was a fat piece of shit.” Rick burst out laughing and so did Morty, hosting their laughs together made them feel momentarily like they weren’t in different bodies.

Rick stood back up, using Morty’s thighs as leverage, who cleared his throat at the intimate contact. Morty put Rick’s pants back on and for some reason felt the compulsion to put his hand in the small of his teenage back. It was strange to touch his body from a third person, but he knew Rick did this to him a lot, and it was always a reassuring gesture of affection. His hand slid slightly to brush the top of his ass without much thought to it.

“Thanks, Rick.” Morty sighed and head towards the bedroom door.

“Morty?” Morty spun back around to face him, to see Rick was hosting his body with an erection. “I-I-I don’t know what you expect me to do with this, but- y-y-you got so pissed off last time. What do I do if it won’t go away, y’know, what- what am I expected to do?” Rick raised his arms in exasperation, and Morty was not used to his grandpa asking him for advice on anything.

“Oh- I…” Morty blushed, not wanting to tell Rick what he normally thought of that would give him an easy time with it. “I, I guess do what you have to do, it’s fine, it’s not your fault… Uh-- J-j-just, if you…” Rick waited expectantly, blinking at him. “It happens easier, uh, quicker, if you play with my nipp- your nipples…” He nearly fucking outright choked on his words and before Rick could react he was out of the room and in Rick’s, back against the door as he breathed through the hot flush that flooded him.


	4. Weird Wednesday

Rick wandered the corridor of Harry Herpson High school and he was convinced it was some level of hell sent to punish him for all the horrible things he had done in his life. School was not a place for him, full of bullshit politics and dangerously hormonal teenagers who are two seconds away from either stabbing someone or jerking off under their desks. 

The portal gun sat at the bottom of his backpack, he clung to the worn straps on his shoulders like a lifeline. He wasn’t even sure why he was listening to Beth, why he even bothered to come to school when he could just confess to his and Morty’s awkward situation and be done with it. He tried not to overthink it, he seemed to need this. Maybe it was a little respite from the shit at home or the stress of everything. The tiresome monotonous school day was _almost_ welcome in comparison, no wonder Morty sometimes needed to be here. 

After nestling in Morty’s desk at math he smirked to himself a little as he remembered Mr Goldenfold from the time they intercepted his weird fucking dreams. But hey, each to their own, he wouldn’t like someone to know what he dreamed about. In fact he’d probably kill anyone who found out.

He could definitely nap at his desk and he considered it, too, the portal gun wouldn’t make the best pillow but it would do. Maybe this wasn’t so bad afterall, Rick knew some of the reason he drilled the uselessness of school to the Smith family was to keep Morty to himself for his projects. If he was honest, the invisibility of Morty, who could generally get by like a shadow throughout the day, was appealing. Compared to Rick being hunted with a generous bounty on his head in too many planets to count. A pang of sadness threatened Rick’s gut at the idea that Morty didn’t have any real friends.

“Morty?” Mr Goldenfold’s tone suggested it wasn’t the first time he’d called his name.

“What?” Rick quirked a brow and looked towards the door, a friendly looking woman holding a clipboard was smiling at him through her thick rimmed glasses. A therapist, Rick could practically smell them. She was young and friendly, yet to be broken by the fucked up stories she’d learn from all these kids. Nothing else was said to him, probably to prevent teenagers getting too embarrassed by being called out of class by a counsellor. Rick stood and went to her and she lead them away back down the corridor.

“Hey Morty, you must have completely forgotten about your appointment, huh?” She had a soothing voice, one that could lull a baby to sleep. Rick just rolled his eyes as he followed behind her.

“Uh, yeah. I-I mean, what appointment is this again? My fifth or something?” Rick guessed trying to get some intel, he had to bite his tongue from interluding with any quips or insults.

“It’s only your second, Morty. You asked for these, remember? Do you want to discontinue our meetings?” She seemed concerned but held the door open for him anyway and into her office. Rick stepped in and sat on the sofa, letting his backpack stay right beside him with his hand feeling the firm shape of his portal gun beneath the material.

“Nah- it’s cool, I mean, if I asked for them I must want them.” Rick recovered, sniffing and clearing his throat, he looked around at the generic layout of the room. A plant in the corner, neutral coloured walls and floor, motivational posters and canvases of sunsets.

“That’s great!” She sat opposite him in a chair, still with that small smile and a gentle tone. “Would you like to continue from last session?”

Rick rubbed Morty’s thighs and down to cup his knees with very out of character nervousness for himself, but Morty’s body had some sort of muscle memory for anxiety and it felt completely natural. Was he really going to overstep the mark here? This was going to be taking it too fucking far, would it be so wrong? Clearly, Morty had no friends. Rick felt like on some level responsible for it and at the same time he could hold a solution for him, using sciency shit or what should be simpler but was more complicated, Rick could just simply _be there for him._

“I-I-I guess, w-will you, like, recap what we talked about last time? I’ve- I’ve had a busy week and I can’t remember.” Rick feigned a small laugh, using Morty’s little whiny but cute voice to his advantage again.

She nodded in understanding, twiddling her biro pen and humming gently.

“Well? That’s fine, Morty. There’s a lot going on day to day, it’s okay to need a little prompt now and then.” She glanced down at her clipboard and put it aside, her body language was warm and welcoming and friendly. Rick scanned her and tried to hold back his disdain for her profession.

“Yeah, I guess.” He said to spurr her on, otherwise this could be a painfully long session.

“You were confiding in me that you had feelings that you weren’t happy about. Particularly romantic feelings towards someone, you also mentioned sexual fantasies and dreams about this person.”

Rick had that twist in his gut that was laced with guilt. _What the fuck Sanchez, you really are one sick son of a bitch._ He felt committed at this point. He knew this much, might as well go the whole way. He knew it couldn’t be Jessica, how could Morty feel guilty about having a crush on that red head? Hell, Rick had a similar thing when he was younger. Either way, he wouldn’t try and Cronenberg a planet again but maybe Rick could offer more ‘man talk’ (he could vomit at that phrase alone) than Beth’s dithering husband.

“Did- Did I tell you who it was?” He said at last.

The counsellor leaned forward and as her glasses fell down her nose she pushed them back up, she moved like she considered every action.

“It’s okay, Morty. You don’t have to feel ashamed here, this is our safe space. Would it make you feel better if I told you what you said to me last session? Sometimes hearing it back from someone else can help you with your own perspective.”

“Uh-huh, th-that’d be great...” Rick would have finished it with the counsellors name but he didn’t have a clue so left it blank.

“Your grandfather, Rick.”

*

Morty’s hand slipped across the dial of the shower, turning on the water. In his mind, the sound of water littering the tiles would dampen any mild uncertainties. Rick left enough booze in bottles in the garage to get his body decently past the point of tipsy. If Morty were in his own virgin body, he would have had alcohol poisoning. Luckily for him, Rick had an iron fortress of a tolerance to hard liquor. He was buzzing comfortably, and any (if not, all) of Morty’s anxieties were numbed like they were wrapped in cotton wool.

He had to drink again today. What Rick didn’t tell him, or maybe was too _embarrassed_ to tell him, (if that was a feeling his grandpa was capable of having, Morty doubted it since he shit himself where everyone could see at the last Vindicators meeting), was that Rick’s body got withdrawals from not drinking. Irritation, shaking, shivers, nausea, the works. It wasn’t unbearable, but like hell Morty was taking the hit of enduring sobriety for Rick’s years of alcohol abuse.

So he finally took the shower he had longed for, it had been since last time Rick took the shower before they switched bodies. At least two days, then. He felt disgusting and had the sweat from the pressure of hosting his grandfather’s body dried into the clothes he wore.

Morty kicked off Rick's shoes then pulled off his socks one by one, balancing carefully on the bathroom sink. He peeled away the lab coat and let it fall to the floor and following that, Rick's light teal long sleeve shirt, white vest and tawny trousers, revealing Rick’s pale skin in sections. The musk from his sweat lingered below the steam from the shower.

He wiped the mirror with his forearm and took a moment to look at Rick's features properly, that familiar drunk face looked back at him. The only thing that was missing was a look of impatience in his eyes and an attitude in his brow.

Instead, Morty looked at the reflection with how _he_ looked at Rick, or at least, felt for him. Seeing his own adoring expression for his grandpa reflected back at him, as though Rick were the one looking at him so wholly and lovingly flayed him open emotionally for a moment. A mixture of feelings that had previously been knotted in his belly and tied down to stop itself erupting from his chest, had sprouted anew.

Morty embraced this once in a lifetime opportunity, bathed in it, Rick’s blushed cheeks and eyes half lidded with arousal. Morty watched that pale chest, dusted with blue hair, rise and fall with his eager breaths as he let Rick's long fingers caress his own ribs with light feather touches. It tickled, Rick was _ticklish._

Morty felt his desire spread through his mind like an electric current. Sure he knew his relationship with Rick wasn’t healthy, he had the odd day dream and thought that taunted him but the alcohol gave him the bravery to open Pandora’s box. The one he stomped into dust and let float down into oblivion years ago. That his affection for his grandpa was more than just platonic.

He held the eye contact with the reflection, he knew he would never have another chance to have this look reciprocated by Rick. Lust and hunger.

Morty let the briefs fall to his ankles and stepped out of them. Finally having Rick completely naked, taking full advantage of the view in the mirror. His palms smoothed a path down the shallow dips of muscle between Rick's hips and abdomen before gripping onto his cock. He hissed between his teeth and groaned quietly. His eyes were torn between watching Rick’s cock to memorising the features Rick’s face made.

Morty couldn't tell which was more intoxicating, the alcohol still catching up in his blood, the eye contact he held with Rick’s reflection, the grumbling sounds of his grandpa’s stuttering breaths or the feeling of his girth in Morty’s hand. All he knew was that he would have come right then and there if he was in his own body. Fortunately, Rick’s was weathered with experience and inebriated enough to slow the intensity like he was moving through syrup.

Morty stepped under the shower, the water was cool in comparison to his burning flesh, the cold bringing him back from his dreamlike trance and enhancing the reality of what he was doing. Whatever reality it was, had him touching Rick Sanchez’s body. Morty reached for a scented shower gel, he went for Summer’s Sunkissed Strawberry. With a generous amount on his hands, he slicked them up and his left hand reached back down to his cock, the slipperiness caused him to moan out and it roiled something in his belly. He skirted Rick’s right hand down Rick’s back, guiding the fingertips to his seam and then lower than that. He found the puckered skin with his soapy digit and gently explored in small circles. _Holy fuck._

Morty eventually found a rhythm between his hands. It was difficult at first, but he leaned back and pressed Rick’s shoulder blades against the welcome iciness of the tiles on the wall, letting Rick's feet and thighs part wider. He let a finger press against the tightness and then slip inside Rick’s hot body and his brows knitted together, mouth gaping silently. With every gentle twist of his hand around Rick’s cock, the other hand pumped a finger into Rick’s hole to the knuckle, he was tiptoeing, the nerves in Rick’s calves were quaking as he pushed his desires.

Morty added another finger. This sensation was so new. In his own body he had barely gone this far but with the assistance of Rick's long fingers and dexterity, it made the actions fluid and skilled. His eyes scrunched and Rick’s left hand stalled on his dick as he mouthed silent screams into the damp clouds that surrounded him, feeling the hot clenching of Rick’s muscles around his fingers.

A nuclear green light flooded the bathroom and all Morty could do was freeze solid, as though he had missed a step on the stairs, horror rippled through him. His eyes blew wide and he watched Rick in Morty's teenage frame walk through.

“Morty, w-we need to g-” Rick stopped and stared at Morty, utterly derailing his body, soaking wet and debauched under the shower. “Oh- I-I see how it is. So you can jerk off, b-b-ut I can’t? L-let me tell you, Morty, it’s that kinda hypocritical double-standard bullshit that r-really riles me.”

Morty moved his hands to cover Rick’s private areas only for Rick to roll Morty’s eyes so far back.

“I-I told you, it’s my- that’s _my_ body. I’ve seen it all before- In more ways than one I - might I tell you.” Rick contemplated telling Morty there and then, he could see he was horny, frustrated and possibly upset.

“G-g-get _out_ , Rick!” Morty finally yelled.

“Fine, Jeez, Morty. Y-y-y-you definitely need to finish whatever you’re doing there, sheesh.” Rick tutted and left the bathroom, eyes uncomfortably wide in their sockets. Holy fuck, this was a lot to take in in one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kind comments, it means the world.


	5. Sad Saturday

Morty hadn't seen much of Rick since he had caught Morty on the verge of the best wank he had ever had in the bathroom. They had quick interactions but nothing out of the ordinary, which in itself _was_ out of the ordinary. Rick hadn't bothered him and Morty was still too embarrassed to even attempt approaching him first. It had been a few days, and Morty was not only bored but worried that Rick was going to take longer to fix the helmet since he screwed up getting the glurzo fluid.

Saturdays could go one of two ways in the Smith household and Morty just stayed out of the way, just in case. He resisted the temptations to go see Rick in the garage and find out where he was up to, he would only get in the way and slow his grandpa's genius down.

He had hunted Rick's box room for more booze and apparently had whittled down all of his grandpa’s emergency stashes to nothing. Morty made sure not to get totally wasted, he just wanted to itch the scratch of withdrawal from crawling up Rick's spine. He never really thought about it before but he supposed Rick over the years now drank out of sheer habit whereas Morty had to constantly remind himself to top his blood alcohol levels like nursing a baby he never asked for.

A mixture of guilt and impatience fought in his belly. He just wanted to be back in his body, back to school, get rejected by Jessica, bugged by his teachers to pay more attention, all of the usual mundane comforting routines. He resigned himself to those ideas for now and decided to go find his Mom’s wine.

Morty was struggling to cope with the change of residing in someone else’s body, now that he didn’t have the final piece of normality to hold onto, which was his daily interactions with Rick, he felt sanity slipping through his fingers like sand. He was left alone in this body, in his mind, with his anxiety and a creeping cold shadow beneath all that threatened to envelop him. The couple of quiet days had felt like weeks, he was getting cabin fever as he drank by himself and sat around in the dark to avoid the exhausting task of imitating Rick all the time. He felt himself slipping into that dark place but couldn't fathom what was causing it. Maybe he could take the portal gun and find a bar full of Ricks? He could talk to them.

He was rooting through the kitchen cupboard grateful for Rick's height to find Beth's non-vinegar tasting wines.

“There's a nice Merlot in the back.” Beth’s voice spooked Morty.

“Oh, uh, th-thank you… Sweetie.” Morty relaxed when he added the pet name, satisfied it wasn’t suspicious.

“I just want to thank you Dad, Morty has been so focused on his school work since Wednesday. I'm assuming you not taking him out on adventures has been a big help, I know grounding him doesn't do much difference.”

“Since… Since Wednesday?” Morty frowned, when Rick's brow creased the older face expressed agitation but it was because Morty was suddenly nervous.

Morty, now sober and had a light sweat on his brow, had a really sinister feeling that he'd forgotten something important. He thought back to Wednesday. What time was it when Rick had bombarded through the portal and interrupted him? Morty had guessed around 1pm? As the realisation dawned on him he felt Rick's whole body turn into an ice sculpture. He was mortified, Wednesday at around lunch time entailed an appointment he had completely forgotten about.

“You're welcome.” Morty quickly darted off with any bottle of wine he had in his hand.

 _Oh Jeez, no. No no no nonono._ Morty leapt into the garage, the door barely had a chance to slam behind him before he was leaning back, the wall lifted his shirt up as he was sliding down to sit, the bottle of wine rolled across the floor as he scrunched Rick's hair in his fists.

Weren’t those confidential? Surely she wouldn't tell Rick of all people--but aesthetically, biologically? He was Morty. _Oh God._ Morty spotted Rick quirking his brow at him and walking over but it felt distant. Morty begged to some cosmic power for the whole Earth to absorb him into its molten core. He wanted to launch himself into the sun, Rick had the technology for that didn't he? Oh fucking Christ.

Rick hadn't shown any signs that he knew, maybe he was just being polite? Morty could laugh if he didn't feel like his diaphragm had turned into concrete, Rick, polite? No.

“Morty, the fuck is wrong with you?” For a fraction of a second Rick eyed the bottle of wine like an old friend he pretended not to recognise before crouching down to check on his grandkid.

“D-did y-y-yyyou-- the-- in school, the a-a-appoi-appointment, t-the thing, the thing with-” Morty was almost hyperventilating, Rick's scalp sore with his hands tugging at the bed of unruly hair as he stared through Rick in his yellow shirt. This whole thing was _fucked._

“Oh.” Rick’s expression shifted subtle yet distinct. “Y-you just remembered you had that counsellor appointment on Wednesday? Don't sweat it.” Rick shrugged, putting his hands on his waist and standing up straight to look at Morty with new found indifference. 

“W-what?” Morty blinked.

“Yeah, it's nothing. Whatever. Don't even trip.” Rick shrugged again.

“So, you… you know?” Morty asked, relaxing Rick's limbs.

“Yeah.” Rick stared at Morty a moment longer before going back to the work bench. Nothing else was said and it made Morty question if any of that conversation even happened.

“That's it?” Morty used the shelves of boxes as leverage to stand back up, limbs shaking slightly from the crazy few moments.

“What - what do you mean, kiddo?” Rick continued tinkering on the helmet without looking at him.

“You find out I've - I have these - whatever you want to call them. Sick fantasies, w-weird feelings.” Morty's face contorted with his own words. “You don't care?”

“Nope. Not even a little bit.” Rick maintained his focus on his work.

Morty couldn't tell why this hurt him, but it did. Obviously, his grandpa didn't care. He didn't care about anything, not really. When has he ever? One 32nd part of him had a belief that Rick did, on some sacrificial level, but that tiny fraction was drowned out. Why did Morty _want_ him to care? Surely he should kiss the feet of a blasé attitude. Nonchalance should be welcomed, praised even. Beneath what he thought he _should_ feel, highlighted above it, was the alternative. Rick felt nothing for him. No affection past his usefulness, his Morty-waves, he held no attraction towards him. He _tolerated_ him. No one else could want Morty, so why would Rick?

Morty felt that shameful lump in his throat and sting in Rick's eyes. He didn't say anything else, just scooped up the wine with a sad scrape and clink against the concrete ground and slinked away from the garage.

When Rick heard the garage door close behind his grandson he groaned, loud and long, he let Morty’s eyes roll to stare at the ceiling for a while like it held the fucking clues he needed to sort out the emotional shit show. He was making good progress in terms of fixing their body swap, even with the facade of going to school and playing happy family, he was going to be done sooner than he anticipated. It could be Morty’s nimble fingers or the motivation to get back to his body after discovering Morty's affections. When he was back in his own body he could try and- what? Sort it out? It wasn’t science or an equation with a right our wrong answer. There was only something much, much more complicated.

 

*

 

As Morty took another drag from the green bottle he held the liquid hostage against his cheeks before swallowing, belching and wiping his chin. He licked his lips with the aftertaste, not bad, but spirits were definitely more acquainted with Rick’s palate. He lay back on his familiar bed with his feet still on the floor, Rick's long legs easily able to stay flat footed while laying flat against the mattress. He held the bottle of wine by the neck with its base sat next to him, the cold body of the glass pressed against the sliver of skin showing at Rick’s hip.

The mid afternoon of this particular Saturday held a strange lonely nostalgia, the wave of familiarity he felt with it was comforting as it was gloomy. The friendless summers of long endless weeks recalled in Morty a distinct yet simultaneously blurry emotion. Morty listened to the rain patter on his bedroom window and closed his eyes as he bathed in it. Those monotonous breaks from school held no promises for Morty and any future ahead of him always seemed dreary, a slight twitch on his lip quirked. All of that changed when he met his grandfather. He hadn’t been daunted by dreary breaks, time alone held no threats any longer as at any moment, with no warning, Rick could barrel through his room, Rick could drag him away, Rick could always save him.

 

*

 

Morty startled awake by his shoulders being shoved into the mattress, his neck making his head bob violently from the bed. He groaned through a red wine headache cracking his temples.

“Get up y-you lazy shit.” Rick tutted, Morty blinked until he could hone in on Rick’s angry expression.

“I-I-I’m up, jeez, quit it, Rick.” His hands came up to weakly swat away the palms on his shoulders, but Rick was still shaking him “Rick!” He growled, gripping the teenage wrists properly. 

“Good, you’re up.” Rick finally stopped his incessant pestering. “We gotta- we’re going out, in the ship.” Morty realised then that the rude awakening was probably because Rick couldn’t drag Morty like he usually did, not when he hosted this spindly body. He was always half asleep for a good while after Rick drew him away to somewhere or other, it explains why he was thorough with waking him up this time.

He followed blindly, Rick guiding Morty by the wrist for old times sake to the garage. The difference was Morty had Rick’s spine craned down slightly with Rick’s pulling, it was at that awkward back-ache-inducing angle with the height difference. He got in the passenger seat and yawned as he waited expectantly for Rick to adjust the seat and complain about driving in Morty’s body again. Rick started the engine but instead of taking off he heard a long silence before an obnoxious throat clearing.

“What?” Morty lolled his head lazily against the headrest to face Rick, eyebrow quirked.

“W-what do you mean ‘what’? A-aren’t you forgetting something?” The look in Rick’s eyes was almost as bad as the one he had when Morty fucked that helmet by smashing it right on the garage floor. Painful, thick stillness followed Rick's words.

“W-w-will you give me a break?” Morty snapped, arms raised up in irritation.

Rick launched himself forward, leaning right over Morty’s lap. Morty gasped before he realised Rick was yanking at the seatbelt by his shoulder. The mechanism fought against Rick with its retraction from the force of his pulling but after a few angry garbles, Rick finally pulled it down long enough to go over Morty’s torso and clicked it in to place. He snapped his eyes up to meet Morty's with an expression he hadn't seen on his grandpa before. 

“You never forget your seatbelt, Morty.”


	6. Sweet Sunday

Tendons in their hamstrings cried for relief, their throats stinging with the assault of oxygen as their lungs were gasping for air, filling far too slowly and emptying too quickly. The corridors blended into one ludicrous loop of the same never ending circuit of blinding white. Horror was always a great motivator, and watching one of the guards get accidentally sliced in half by one of the other guards was the ideal inspiration they needed to never stop running.

Morty felt Rick’s long legs screaming for reprieve, on his next exhale an involuntary pained groan escaped his throat and was interrupted by Rick who grabbed Morty’s wrist with bruising force and swung them both into a nook in the wall. The space they now occupied was dark and tight, the complete contrast to the clinical vibrancy they'd sprinted through.

They were pressed against one another, chest to chest, closed in like a folded book. Morty’s  eyes adjusted to the contrast, his pupils expanded hungrily for light as the distinct sound of an alien grunting with effort flashed beside them making his nerves vibrate as it slithered past, this was all far too close for comfort.

Morty tilted his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he felt Rick’s bald spot against the freezing wall, this body wasn’t as forgiving as his younger one, his stamina was adequate but required a lot more effort. He licked Rick's dry lips and after a second his head pivoted back to look at his grandpa with his expression communicating silently: _‘Are you kidding me, this actually works? Not just in cartoons?’_ It would have been funny if it hadn’t been tinged with exhaustion and fear of still being caught. They were pressed together, sandwiched between the walls of this droll cranny, deep and dark enough to be the perfect hiding place, just enough space for Rick and Morty.

Rick’s chest pressed their bodies closer with every inhale but even exhales barely relieved them of the squeeze of fitting in. It was tight but not painful. Morty had one leg between Rick's, the length of his grandpa's legs didn't give him much choice. Morty opened Rick’s mouth to speak but Rick’s eyes widened in horror, the small teenage hand snapped up and slammed Morty’s head back into the wall with enough force to stop him speaking. Morty felt Rick’s eyes water at the sting against his skull and his throat muffled a grunt. Morty's bubbling anger simmered away when another alien scuttled past, he relaxed against the hand on his mouth but Rick kept it there for a few extra safe moments.

When the sound of the creature had well and truly dissipated and they could breathe again Morty realised how much he missed the adrenaline of their adventures. Fresh and vibrant, a natural drug that whirred in their veins. Morty enjoyed the lively thrum of Rick’s heartbeat in his ears and neck, it was so refreshing from the dull black and grey days he'd been submerged in, like breathing in beautiful crisp morning air after being suffocated.

When it was safe, Rick let go of Morty’s mouth and he instinctively licked at his lips again, tasting the salty sweat from the palm of his small hand. Words and emotions swirled in the air above them and Morty went to ask but he wasn't sure if he could cope with bad news again. So instead, he stared at Rick, panting, mouth agape with the urge to ask.

_Did we get it? I'm sorry I fucked it up again, Rick. Please, tell me we got it._

Rick smirked, Morty's small mouth not quite the face splitting grin Rick could express if he was occupying his own face but cheeky enough to make Morty hold his breath.

They say that eyes are the window into the soul, and Morty had never really thought about it much before until now. Although he was looking at his own body, a face he was so familiar with everyday in the mirror, it was Rick in every instance. The way he held himself, the way he ran, the way he cocked his eyebrow, that shit eating grin he only ever shared with Morty.

With the hand that was on his mouth moments earlier Rick reached into the lab coat pocket Morty was wearing, adrenalin was peaking and hope overfilling the brim of Morty's essence. He felt Rick’s hand search and pull the coat slightly. _Please, God-_ In the next moment, when he saw Rick bring up the jar of glurzo fluid, his whole body was awash with an effervescent pop of glee.

The slosh of brilliant purple fluid highlighted a gleam of violet against Rick's face and Morty watched his grandpa inhale deep in Morty's yellow clothed chest, to rejoice or cheer or yell with their accomplishment. Before Rick could speak, the barely contained happiness finally seeped out of Morty. Without giving Rick a chance to say anything, Morty had his hand on the fresh and flushed teenage face and his lips had covered Rick's. He felt his grandpa stall, suspended in time, mouth still in that smile, not reciprocating, just processing.

He felt Rick tremble beneath his lips. As he realised there was no room to pull away, Morty felt the edges of dread creep up on him as he sensed the tension in Rick. He hadn’t realised he had closed his eyes but opened them to look at what he was doing, Rick’s expression was neutral with slight wide eyes. _This… Isn't okay?_ Morty’s stomach scrunched awkwardly and he went to pull Rick's lips away, shame threatened to ruin the relief and joy he felt from their victory.  As he relaxed to retract his actions, Rick’s eyes glanced at each one of Morty’s pointedly before he closed Morty's eyes with a furrowed brow and pushed the smaller body forward eagerly, kissing him back with reverence.

Morty would have crumpled down into a puddle on the floor if it wasn't for the cosy space keeping him upright. He let Rick's long fingers skirt from Rick's cheek and into his brown hair as he parted Rick’s lips with naive inexperience. The irony that Rick now hosted his untouched virgin body but navigated it with such confidence was something he could never have anticipated. Rick kissed him back with an open hungry mouth, he clasped their lips closed before parting them again to let his tongue lick a long hot stripe against Morty's, who could only stutter a gasp and allow Rick full access to his mouth. He kneaded his fingertips gently against Rick's head. His stomach which was tense earlier had transformed into a blossoming fervour as Morty savoured this sensation, tasted Rick, cradled his head, kissed him back.

All Morty could hear was Rick's heartbeat, their desperate inhales through their noses and broken exhales through their mouths. Neither of them allowed a moment to pause, their kisses not allowing a clear moment to breathe. Morty shuffled so his other hand could cradle Rick’s waist, his large hand covering an impressive surface area of his young narrow ribcage, Rick responded by moaning and pulling his mouth away. The tiny streak of light coming through from the corridor highlighted a string of glittering saliva which broke when they both craned their heads against the walls, panting more now than they did when they had been running for their lives.

“Rick-” Morty began, licking his swollen lips again, he couldn’t find anymore words. That was hands down the best kiss he had ever had in his life, better than anything he could have dreamed, their excitable post-adventure states left them vulnerable to it.

 _It was bound to happen eventually, right?_ Rick thought, and his brain thrummed with the further possibilities they had, Rick was hosting Morty’s erection which was pressed against the taller thigh. Any tendon or muscle Morty moved gave him sweet friction, the fact that Morty didn’t mention it left him an oxymoron of disappointed and glad.

Rick may not have had the resolve to resist kissing him back, but he had a pretty concrete will when it came to not pursuing anything further, sexually. Somewhere he blamed himself, for letting himself attend that therapists meeting in the first place and listening to Morty’s deepest secrets. Somewhere inside Rick, he sifted through the undusted emotions and labelled them incorrectly. Flattery and comfort were two things he would never confess to feeling when he heard who Morty had feelings for. He did promise to help his grandkid through it.

He couldn’t fault the kid, at all. Rick knew this was all wrong, he was honestly at as much of a loss as Morty was. The fact that Morty was inhabiting his body left the opportunity wide open for Rick to snatch, the whole concept of ‘I’m taking advantage of him’ was wiped clean with the physical reversal of age, size and strength. But, knowing about the ‘weird feelings’ or ‘sick fantasies’ that Morty confessed to him, was he just exploiting his grandkid’s emotions? The whole reason behind this massive fuck up was threatening to choke Rick out. Why did he do the body swap? Why did he want to switch with Morty in the first place? If Dr Wong was here she’d be the white suited bastard to reveal the truth beneath all of this whole facade, she’d bullet point all of his fucked up reasoning. Rick’s own emotions were threatened to be smoked out like a wasps nest. So instead, he didn’t respond, just lifted the hand not holding the glurzo fluid and wiped Morty’s chin with his thumb of their spit.

 

*

 

Back in the ship they both sighed once the doors had shut. Dark circles underlay their eyes, Morty's held a smile and Rick's were neutral.

“I'll have that helmet fixed by tomorrow, y-you excited to be back in your nice young body, Morty?” Rick smiled, but it didn't follow his eyes.

“Yeah--of course, this whole thing, it's been so weird. And I-I just can't keep up with your drinking.” Morty laughed quietly, fixing his seat belt in place absentmindedly. Rick watched him and turned on the engine, this time the corners of his eyes tweaked to let that smile broaden.

“Yeah? Well I-I-I can't keep up with your _boners,_ Morty.” Rick rolled his eyes and took off driving.

Strangely, it didn't feel weird. Just, the same old Rick and Morty as it was before, even though they both shared the most kiss-or-die make out session of their lives. Rick's sexual bank was fading away into nothing in comparison to the past weeks insightful experiences. What was surprising is that nothing had _really_ happened (that wasps nest was buzzing loudly).

Somewhere, one 32nd of him tried to scream from the void that it was past the restriction of physicality. Somewhere deep within his fucked up psyche, it was because of love.


	7. One Hundred Years

Rick asked Morty if he was excited to switch back but as he lay in Rick's cot clutching the worn thin sheet beside him, he dissected that excitement into nervousness. It was long past midday, it was hard to tell because he was lay behind the shrouded light of the closed curtains. He'd lay there as though waiting for his own execution. It wasn't being back in his body that was making him nervous, it was how Rick was going to _act_ once he was back in his ‘ _pathetic, pain-in-the-ass_ ’ body. Morty had definitely opened that can of worms he was so scared of. He supposed he wasn't delicate about it at all, he didn't really give himself a chance to _think._ But now, thinking was all he could do.

He flipped over on the cot and faced the wall, the dark room enveloping him in some sort of comfortable shroud against it all while simultaneously cocooning him in his own feelings. All those times Rick encouraged him to go for it, 'get the girl', experiment with his teenage hormones, get laid as much as he could, Rick had practically _handed_ the eager willing moments to Morty on a platter. Every shape and species on all the conceivable spectrums and yet regardless of all that he had outright ignored every single opportunity he could. He'd been in so many hexagonal slots of existence throughout the honeycomb of dimensions that it was impossible _not_ to have all of those chances. Despite every encouragement Rick gave him, Morty cemented himself further into his own reluctance and laced it with acceptance. How could Morty ever have told Rick he'd rather have _him?_

The door opened to the small box room and Rick waltzed in.

“Ha ha, hope you're not getting to know _Palm_ ela _Hand_ erson too well, if you know what I mean, woah, jeez, I-I-I was just kidding Morty, will you lighten up? Ain’t nothin, y’know, if you were jerking off, but didn't you- did you forget? We're switching back, baby!” Rick cheered, Morty could hear the voice was close, above him.

“Yeah.” Morty sighed and turned so that he was on his back again to see Rick stood above him, he blinked up at him before sighing and finally getting up. He trailed behind Rick to the garage, as was their nature, all the while his grandpa was talking.

“Finally got the house empty so no one bothers us and by no one, I-I mean Jerry, obviously. I was tempted to put him into daycare again but I couldn’t fathom an ounce of my valuable energy to bother driving him over there. I-I-I just portaled him over to Doofus Rick’s place, told your dad he was needing a friend, those two could probably circle jerk eachother forever if we let them, and I would if I wouldn’t get an ear full from your mom, Morty.” Rick chuckled at his own little ploy. “Oh man, I-I-I can’t wait to have a good drink, Morty. See how good I behaved hosting you? I didn’t even have a single drop, not one, the smell whenever you drank in my body, that was all I had.” When they entered the garage the natural movements returned to his grandpa, a bit stunted somewhat from Morty's height but still swift.

Rick was setting up the equipment, Morty noticed that the new helmet looked sturdier than the first one. He grabbed Morty's wrist and pulled him efficiently into Rick's chair by the workbench, after nestling the helmet comfortably on Morty's head he clipped it under his chin this time.

“N-Not letting the past repeat itself Morty, can't risk you breaking it again.” Rick winked as he knocked on the top of the helmet Morty was wearing, he flinched at the hollow yet heavy sound. Rick put on his own, this helmet was the original only with the excess straps and soldering to fortify the wires and hinges.

“Wh-wh-why do you want to keep them in one piece, Rick? I-I mean, we aren't doing this again… Are we?” Morty frowned, Rick just shrugged, giving him more questions than answers. Rick secured his own helmet with the little clip and pulled out a stool to sit and face Morty in his body.

“Rick, why the hell would you want to do this again?” Morty repeated, raising his voice this time.

“Ooops.” Rick said sarcastically, Morty watched him flick a switch, light filled the corners of his vision, his mind emptying quickly of feeling and thoughts as the white light narrowed his sight to one point, all he could see was Rick smiling with Morty’s mouth and he went blank.

On his exhale he was facing Rick, clutching his yellow shirt on his chest to gasp in air. The familiarity of his own body was warm and relieving past the shock of his consciousness being lifted from one body to another. The dizziness was still there but without the alcohol it melted away quickly. He watched Rick’s relaxed and almost lifeless body for a moment, heart hammering in brief horror before Rick came back into it, gasping to life, the momentary wake up left his expression blank for a moment and then it was replaced with joy.

“I-I-I’m back, baby!” He leaned forward and unclipped Morty's helmet, lifting it off his head cautiously to then ruffle Morty's brown hair underneath. “Lil shit, y-you kept me almost sober, feels pretty good, Morty, I can't lie!” Rick smiled and stood tall, taking off his own helmet and placing them both on the desk safely towards the back. He stretched out long, arms over his head and clicking his back by turning slightly. Morty craned his neck up to watch his grandpa, he joined Rick in standing and got off the stool but came up short to his grandfather's height, smoothing his hair down where Rick ruffled it.

“Y-y-y-you didn't answer my question, Rick!” Morty heard his own voice in his head, his own nimble body was back and he basked in it beneath his irritation as he lay out his arms out by his sides, palms out flat in plea to an actual reply from his grandpa.

“Ughhhh, _Moooorty_.” Rick's tone was warning as he scowled at him before turning to search through his cupboards for something. He found it, and with the distinct click of a seal breaking, Morty didn't need to see or smell what it was to know Rick was chugging down a fresh bottle of liquor.

“Come _on_ , Rick. Y-you're always-- I'm always left in the dark with this. Why are you keeping the body-swap thing?” Morty was anxious, he wasn't sure if he could cope with Rick's manic depression if he got put back in his body again. He was sick to death of being brushed aside and treated like a kid, like he didn’t know jack shit. Sure he wasn’t a genius, who was in comparison to Rick? He was stupid when it came to a lot of things, but emotional intelligence wasn’t one of them. Rick finished a long swig, it was a generous amount, it looked like he had almost a quarter of the bottle in one go.

“Didn't I tell yoOUGH-you not to ask any questions?” Rick took out the empty flask from the inside pocket of his jacket and began filling it up on his desk with the freshly opened bottle. Morty grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. The bottle in his hand sloshed and the flask was knocked over, Rick, being stronger, shoved Morty's hand away and picked up his trusty container quickly enough to only let a little bit spill. “ _Christ!_ Morty, c-can you stop being an annoying piece of shit for five seconds.”

“No! I fucking _won't_ because I'm sick of you ignoring me a-a-and-- _this_.” Morty palmed Rick in the chest, who barely moved, before slamming the same hand back to his own sternum. “Us.”

“Us? _Us?!”_ Rick laughed, cruel and mocking, holding his chest where Morty’s had just been a second ago, wiping a fake tear from his eye before pointing at him with the same finger. “Oh my God, you're wayyyy over your head. You'll forget-- y-you'll get over your weird crush, don’t worry your little head about it, you might bust a vein under that thick skull of yours. Do what you do best, Morty, and just don't think about it.” Rick had craned down so his face was at Morty's level to truly patronize him, seething with his teeth baring as he spoke before he straightened up again. Morty stood shell shocked as he watched Rick run his hand through his hair, the anger faltered briefly but it was distinct, the corner of Rick's lips turned down, the way the skin by his eyes creased, it pained Morty to see it. He watched Rick’s long legs walk over to the garage door with purpose.

Morty's feet were frozen to the spot as he processed what to do next, he decided to disregard all of Rick’s ramblings and ran over to grab the back of Rick's white coat, he turned him back around to face him again, harder this time, then pushing the back of Rick's shoulders against the door and held him there, breathing raggedly. He knew the strength of Rick’s body, that he could easily push him away, but his grandfather was still with his piercing eyes steadfast on Morty’s.

“No! Y-yyyyou don't get to run away like you always do. This. It's real.” Morty was on his tiptoes, hands white knuckled with tension as they grabbed Rick's lapels, determination crept up him. Rick always had the power to turn any of Morty's anxieties into anger, the compound of the two fuelled Morty into an unwavering force. He was scanning his grandpa’s swimming blue eyes for something, _anything_.

“Yeah? In your dreams, kid.” Rick scowled, glaring down at him, that spittle back on his chin decorating his frown, the animated features of Rick, though back to his usual asshole self, was conjuring up Morty’s endearment for him. His Rick was back to his old self, back in his body. The body Morty had become familiar with over the past week and had fantasised about for much, much longer.

Words were futile, obviously. Morty couldn't get through to him that way most of the time, Rick's stubbornness would never allow it. He let his hands relax and release the lab coat. One of them floated gently to Rick's face who flinched at the touch but didn't move. Morty remembered how nice it was tracing Rick's features, he recalled it was such a light and tender feeling, memorable and resonant, as though no one had ever touched his face that delicately before. So Morty made sure to touch Rick now, the way he had, with meaning. His small hand traced the pads of his index finger across Rick's blue brow, who brought a hand up between them and swatted Morty's hand away, it was gentle but a firm action and Morty decided to let Rick’s hand keep Morty’s wrist down by his side. Morty's other hand came up to Rick's cheek, smoothing his thumb under his eye towards his temple as his fingertips ran past Rick’s ear and into his hair, gently massaging his scalp. Rick took a few seconds longer than he did the first time but he eventually swat this hand away too, holding both of his grandson’s wrists away from his face down by his sides.

The air was still as Morty maintained eye contact with Rick's crystalline ones. He tiptoed taller, letting his mouth rest against Rick’s cheek. It wasn't a kiss, just a gesture, Morty's inexperienced lips brushed softly towards the corner of his grandpa's mouth, which remained obstinate in a hard frown. Morty’s heart was hammering against his ribcage, he watched Rick’s eyes relax at the corners but still watching him carefully. Morty moved to let his lips graze Rick’s and felt the older body tense. Rick turned his face away from the tender, caring touches of his grandson's lips. He released Morty’s wrists and slid down the door, crouching, one knee between his grandson’s legs. Morty followed Rick as he got lower and lower, following him down as he inched until he was sitting on the cold hard ground of the garage, staring at the stack of shelves and away from his loving grandson.

“Grandpa Rick?” Morty felt like he may have been listening now. Morty placed both of his knees on the floor beside Rick’s hips, sitting in his lap, closing in his own torso against Rick's, letting his warmth spread to him. “I know what it was like in there. Being you. Th-th-that shit, i-i-it was hard.” Morty shook his head remembering how dark some of the moments had felt.

Rick sat as still as a statue, solid and unmoving. His demeanour had shifted to complete indifference, as though nothing really mattered. The annoyance and agitation had melted away into nothing, he was devoid of expression. The only giveaway that he was acknowledging Morty was his stuttering breaths, inside his mind, loud, loud buzzing, the hum of the hive threatened to emerge.

“R-Rick, come on, please, tell me it meant something? Something that good can't be pointless, it can't be.” He murmured frantically at Rick’s turned face before sighing and smoothing his hands beneath Rick’s lab coat and up his back, resting his head on Rick’s chest, hugging him tightly. Rick’s hands remained lifeless on the floor beside him, palms up reflecting Morty's actions from moments ago. His head remained tilted away, and even still, they fit too perfectly together. Morty had never dreamed Rick would ever know about his feelings, he couldn’t even imagine that they would ever kiss, it was all more than he ever expected. He had gotten more than enough out of it, and if that was the end of that then he was fine with it. “Well, I-it’s… It's still Rick and Morty for one hundred years, right? I-I-I don’t need it to be anything more than that, y’know? A-a-as long as I have you, Rick.” Their breathing had somehow synced together, it was quiet and still, just the soothing inhale and exhale of Morty against Rick’s body.

Rick finally moved. His arms slowly came up from the ground, and with a confident grip, he embraced Morty against his body, tight and _sure._

Rick’s mind was in overtime, they were both alone, save for each other. He had witnessed first hand the invisibility of his grandkid’s day to day life and Rick’s wasn’t that much different. It wasn’t fair that the only person Morty had was Rick and deep inside Rick knew he was selfish enough to relish it, to ravage himself on Morty’s affections, he’d drown in it happily. He just didn’t want Morty to go down with him. All relationships are toxic and self destructive, they all lead to absolute misery but there was the silver lining of the promise of staying together through it all. To be miserable together and never to be alone through all the shit that just _existing_ threw at them. Morty kept him sane, Morty kept him straight, Morty could disarm the neutrino bomb inside his consciousness and he’d known it for a while.

“It’s because I’m old as shit, Morty.” Rick finally said, the grumbling gravelly tone finally replying to him was like honey to Morty’s ear which lay against Rick’s chest. He lay still, as though if he moved he may spook Rick from talking altogether. “I-I-I’m trying to get this body swap shit right so I can try again and go back to a younger body, maybe not tiny Rick but y-y’know, a me that’s _not_ so ancient, so that I-I can keep that stupid promise. I’d be lucky to live another ten years, and even if I did, would I be able to go on adventures? I probably wouldn’t even be here now, i-if it wasn't for that promise, but here I am and that’s what I’ve been doing all this for. Rick and Morty for one hundred years, Rick and Morty forever and forever, just you and me, Morty.” The humming in Rick’s head stopped, it was peaceful. That incessant fear, the mask that shielded all of his choices and actions had just melted away as he finally, _finally_ told Morty the truth. It’s always been about him.

Morty was trembling with emotion, wide eyed and numb from the glorious bliss of it. Rick Sanchez, his Rick, did all of this for _him._ He felt the same way. He gripped onto Rick’s teal shirt tightly, suddenly too many layers between his hands and Rick's flesh. He basked in Rick's large hands that held him against his taller body. It was beyond comforting, Morty had to blink away the overflow of emotion.

“Jeez, Rick…” Was all he could muster, his hands came down Rick’s back, to the base of his long torso, finding the edges of fabric of Rick’s shirt and vest and letting his fingertips run under them, along the smooth bare skin of Rick’s lower back and up again. Morty sat up a little so he could finally look at Rick’s face, and though his grandpa was deflated, he was at least responsive. Morty realised then it was because he was either vulnerable or defeated, and whichever expression was alien to him. Morty’s fingertips scaled bravely up Rick's sides and found his slightly protruding ribs, delicately tracing them. He thought back to the shower he had and how ticklish Rick was, the fresh memories encouraging him to gently tickle him there. Rick's hips wriggled beneath him, eyes fluttering shut before he opened them and quirked a brow at him.

“Y-you’ve been categorizing this shit, haven’t you, Morty? The things my body likes, I can tell, you lil jerk.” He said affectionately, hands still on Morty’s waist. “There’s one thing though, I don’t do things by halves, y-y-you’ve seen it yourself, I go to the extreme, I never start anything I don’t intend to finish a-a-aand I have no self control, you know me, Morty. I’m an asshole, and if I want something I just fucking take it, and if you keep going that’s what I’m gonna do to you.”

“That ano- I-is that another promise, Rick?” Morty asked coyly, fingertips stroking between each of Rick’s ribs, drawing out another shuffle from his grandpa beneath him. Rick grabbed Morty with purpose and held him firmly in his lap, moving one hand up to cup his young cheek gently. Morty yelped with pleasant surprise at the firm hold and listened intently as Rick’s deep voice chanted to him.

“Y-you think you’re so smart, huh? Y-you think you’ve got my body all figured out? Well, I-I-I’ll show you all the shit about your own body you never even knew existed, i-i-if you say I can, Morty. I won’t hold back, do you know how fucked up this is? Because it is, and what’s more fucked up is that if you don’t care then neither do I, I’ll blow your mind, Morty, you just have to say yes and I’ll go for it, I’ll- I’ll even make you forget your own name. I’ll take over your whole world, if that’s what you want, y-y-you just have to say it. The outside world is our enemy, Morty. We’re the only friends we’ve got, and I don’t give a shit about anyone else anyway. Rick and Morty forever one hundred times, every minute, just say it, say it, Morty.”


	8. Forever

“Only if you want it- s-say it, Morty. It's OK if you don't-- if y-y-you don't want to, say no and we'll just forget about it with no questions asked. We can always go back to how it's always been. But if you want me to, I just need you to say it.”

“Yes, Rick, oh my God, yes, y-y-you can- you already had me, always, Rick, please, yes please, ye-” Morty was cut short as Rick caged Morty’s head in his hands and kissed him deeply.

They had barely given each other a chance to move or breathe, a tangle of pulling and pushing all the way up to Rick's room, where now that dim light struggling to peak through the curtains was leaving a welcome warm glow on the peaks of their features. Rick's cot wasn't big enough for the two of them, it was barely big enough for Rick but none of that mattered now. They couldn't care about anything else but each other. Morty’s eager hands had been peeling away Rick's clothes with no effort, the material sliding from Rick’s thin body with ease. The sound of the coat pooling on the floor was loud, the shuffle of clothing being removed was rousing, reflecting their rising spirits and bodily excitement. Morty’s own garments were almost ripped from him by his grandpa’s ever-surprising strength and dexterity, twisting the material and yanking them from him with efficiency, almost angry at the interruption of the fabric.

Once they were both naked they stilled, both staring in each other’s eyes for a few moments, their intense gazes held an array of colour, the lucid blue of Rick’s worn eyes, the acrylic swirls of Morty’s vulnerable autumn hues, they stared through the windows of their souls with such reverence. This moment allowed a chance for their peripherals to admire the expanse of skin, exposed and inviting. Drinking in the view, Morty gulped with the burning desire that had surged between them, he felt the difference immediately in Rick as soon as he had given him his permission, and only now did he see the real extent of Rick’s suffering too. This was a desperate resolve for both of them, they needed this to survive.

Rick grabbed Morty around the waist with sure arms and lifted him onto the cot, efficiently laying between Morty’s legs as he kissed him into the mattress. Morty wriggled, his spine was keening off the bed at the sensation of Rick’s slightly colder thighs gently gliding against the soft insides of his own overheated ones. Rick’s experienced mouth parted Morty’s to taste him more, his tongue shallowly curling into his mouth, Morty tried to kiss him back as best he could. With the overwhelming sensation of it all, the teen’s overflowing emotions and hammering heart made it difficult for him to tell whether he was any good at all. Rick let him know that it didn’t matter by groaning when Morty swiped his tongue responsively back into his mouth, small yearning hands grappled at Rick’s unruly hair in an attempt to ground himself, to reassure that this was real.

“Mor-Morty, Morty, Morty-” Rick chanted his name between breaths like a prayer as one hand stroked Morty’s brown hair, the other ventured down the slender torso, his index and middle finger stopped either side of Morty’s nipple and gently rolled around it with a feather light touch. Morty gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. “It wasn’t j-juUGH-just you, Morty. It wasn’t just you- categorizing all- all this stuff. I made sure to get a good- a _reaaaal_ good list of your top ten, I got a lotta research, Morty, of all these things about you, my Morty research.” Rick’s voice was deep and loving, ringing down to Morty’s core as his lips ghosted over Morty’s when he spoke, fingers still stroking the nipple with a thoughtfully slow movement.

“Oh, ohh,” All Morty could do was pant sweet nothings, his brain was shorting out at all the sensations of Rick’s touches, all of the care and confessions was immobilising, he could barely believe it was happening.

Rick moved so he was on his hands and knees over Morty, purposely restricting his touch from the naked body beneath him to lead a trail of kisses, pressing them slowly and deliberately, from the corner of Morty’s mouth, to his jaw, to his ear lobe and the tendon in the neck (sucking a small bruise there to admire later). Rick paid close attention to the jugular notch, that tantalizing little ditch at the base of Morty's throat, dipping his tongue into it and kissing, it was a place where he once imagined licking a shot of his favorite liquor from. All the while Morty was writhing, the concentration of feeling to the singular point of Rick’s mouth was heady to his sexually inexperienced mind and body, Rick responded to it like a trained dog, making sure it was exactly what his grandson needed. Rick's studies had lead his mouth to Morty's nipple, his lips rested gently on the areola, eyes watching Morty with a cheeky glint.

“Oh, God, Rick-.” Morty whimpered in anticipation, eyes squeezed shut as Rick's wet tongue swirled along the sensitive skin, it stiffened there quickly by his touch and Morty tried and mostly failed to swallow his own moans, which were coaxed from him like a song by the nature of his Rick, consuming him in generous pieces.

“ _Morty_ , why-- why have we never done this? If this is how I was gonna get you, how you were gonna be-- _oh God,_ I-I've barely even started, keep-keep making those noises for me, baby.”

Morty dared to glance down as Rick started to speak and witnessing the glisten of saliva on his nipple, matching the lustful twinkle in Rick's eye, with that nickname, _oh, Fuck._ Morty lifted his hips for some friction and Rick smirked at him, teasing, he gripped Morty's hip with a firm hand and pressed it down into the mattress again.

“I-I don't think so, Morty. I'm a man of my word, a-a-and I've got a lot of things I wanna do to you, we- we got a lot of time, Morty, one hundred years, be patient, baby.” His tone was gruff and simultaneously lighthearted; like their best adventures. Morty huffed in mild frustration before taking a long deep breath through his nose and relaxing.

Once each of Morty's nipples were beautifully peaked and wet with Rick's mouth he rewarded him with a purposeful kiss.

“Y-y-you okay there, Morty? Look at you--” He sounded hungry, eyes darting around the picture he had painted below him for reassurance, Morty was debauched and breathless and he nodded in response, no words could brush the surface of how he felt right now. “Good.”

Morty reached out to touch Rick, one of his palms smoothing down his abdomen to the coarse hairs and stopped at the base of Rick’s cock, Morty’s other hand held his grandpa’s cheek. Rick smiled warmly and let Morty touch him wherever he wanted.

“This- this is all about you, y-you don't have to do anything for me, Morty.” _’You do enough for me already’_ was left on the tip of Rick's tongue which he kissed into Morty’s palm, another unspoken promise. His blue brow furrowed at the soft hand gently caressing him with a curled grip of fingers around his length, it was the same delicate touches Morty had done earlier to his features, meaningful and raw. Rick turned his face into Morty’s hand that was on his cheek, and let his lips rest on the life line of his palm.

“I know I don’t have to do anything, Rick. I-I-I want to.” Morty almost whispered, his voice lost to how mesmerized he was at watching Rick unravel, the blue dusted chest relaxing with a long exhale. He honed in on Rick’s face, gently twirling his fingers around the tip of his cock, Rick’s eyes fluttered closed and hot breath pooled in Morty’s palm as his grandpa sighed into it.

Time is an illusion yet this shared moment between Rick and Morty seemed to stall and extend like a never ending ripple through the ocean, reverberating back to its center and back, continuous and comforting.

Rick finally opened his eyes again, pupils dilating at Morty's as he maintained eye contact licking a wet stripe up the underside of Morty’s hand and to the pads of his fingers. Morty moaned at the simplicity of it and felt Rick's own fingers slide along his lower lip. Morty copied Rick and let his own tongue slip over the salty fingertips. They both sucked and played with each others digits with eager mouths, Morty’s tongue slicked between Rick’s fingers, saliva left in a trail wherever his tongue roamed. Rick's lips quirked in a smile as he pulled his hand from Morty’s mouth and pecked Morty’s sensitive fingertips, he sat back on his heels and with his dry hand he lifted Morty's hips to rest on his thighs. Morty groaned at the force of being dragged down the bed towards the source of his pleasure and watched as Rick pushed the backs of his thighs with his forearm to leave Morty exposed.

Morty used his arm to shield his face, feeling the light breeze on his backside where he was now revealed to Rick, who growled at the sight. His soaked finger tips slid to Morty's taint and gently skimmed past his sensitive hole, Morty gasped and held his breath, Rick stopped and stroked the insides of Morty's thighs with his other hand to calm him. Once his grandson visibly untensed, he continued with gentle touches, his fingers skimming in a small dance, twirling around the hole and gently he sunk his middle finger in shallowly. Morty's mouth was agape.

“That's it, just relax, i-it's gonna be uncomfortable for a second but I promise I'll make you feel amazing. I-I-I wanna see you Morty, move your arm for me.” Hesitantly, Morty revealed his flushed face, the vulnerability leaving him emotionally open and raw, he swore Rick could sense his passion seeping from his pores. The feeling of Rick dipping inside of him was intoxicating, embarrassing, too little but too much all at once. Rick smiled as he lifted Morty's foot to rest against his shoulder, he kissed along the inside of Morty's ankle and calf, the position let his digit have easier access to go deeper. Once he was to the knuckle he praised Morty in between breaths and kisses along his lower leg. “That’s it, Morty, God, I-I could do this all day, look at- look at you, how could I ever resist?”

He worked patiently, like they had all the time in the world, admiring the view below him of his finger disappearing into the only other body he would ever need or want. His own arousal took a backseat to Morty's, after a while he added his other slick finger, slowly sinking down into Morty's heat, once they were as deep as they could go he watched Morty's eyes scrunch Rick stopped to let him adjust, after a few seconds Morty nodded, Rick always admired Morty’s determination and he’d never admit how it always took him by surprise.

Rick gently twisted his hand at a leisurely pace until his palm was facing up, he let his other hand go to Morty's pleading cock and smoothed along the head with his palm, the precome was slick and allowed him to slide across the sensitive pink tip, at the exact same time he curled his long fingers.

Morty gasped and erupted with a loud stuttering moan, clutching the sheets with a white knuckle grip, Rick could see Morty struggling with the build up of his orgasm already so he withdrew his hand on his cock and focused on the incredible responsive bundle of nerves inside his grandson, pressing in small rotations and enticing a string of incomprehensible noises from Morty.

“I-is that good, huh, Morty?” Rick sucked in breath through his teeth at the sheer beauty below him, an expanse of limbs open and inviting, all for him, only for him.

“Rick, I-I-” Morty shook his head and arched his back, Rick stopped immediately. “No! No, please, d-don’t stop, I-I need- I want you inside me, Rick.” His grandpa was greedy for Morty and those words enticed him to his very being. He withdrew his hand carefully and held behind Morty’s knees, licking generous messy kisses from the insides of his supple thighs to the seam where Morty’s thighs met his groin. He grabbed Morty around the waist and flipped them around so Rick was laying on his back and Morty was sat on top of him.

Morty held himself up by resting his palms flat on Rick’s chest, eyed half lidded with arousal and lips puffy.

“This is the best way for- for your first time, Morty. I-i-i-it won’t hurt as much, and once you’re ready I’ll take over and show you the stars, baby.” Rick stroked Morty’s cheek before reaching under his bed for a small tube, he smothered his hand generously before coating his cock with it. Morty watched with fascination and trust, high up on his knees to give Rick the space he needed to prepare himself. Rick lifted his knees higher so Morty could easily lean back or use them as leverage.

Morty kneeled and looked at Rick nervously who soothed him efficiently with a calm look and took Morty’s hand, kissing his knuckles before lacing their fingers together. Morty shuffled and positioned himself a little lower, using Rick’s hand to steady himself. Rick held the base of his cock and both of them felt the first connection, the head of Rick against Morty’s entrance, hot and firm.

“Y-you’re doing great, Morty, just relax, that’s it,” Rick hummed gently, encouraging as Morty sank a little lower, the tight heat gave way and Rick slipped in a slight with the generous amount of lubrication he had on him. They moaned in unison, Morty’s brow knitted in concentration, Rick moved his hand from the base of his cock to Morty’s, just holding him there delicately. “That’s it Morty, relax a little more, _oh-”_ Rick tossed his head back into the pillow as Morty took him further, deeper into himself, brave and seeking, slowly edging down with purpose. Rick’s hand squeezed Morty’s firmly as he blindly adjusted to it. “Holy shit, Morty, oh my god, you feel amazing- Christ, _oh fuck_ -” Rick reeled off and that’s when he felt Morty had sat on him completely with all of his comforting weight, he looked up and what he saw nearly finished him off. Morty leaning back against Rick’s thighs, holding his hand like they were both about to fall off the Earth, slip from this dimension. Morty was the perfect picture, a sheen of perspiration glittering across his torso, one bead trickling down his belly.

“You did so good, baby, amazing.” Rick admired, twisting his hand around Morty’s cock, the other firmly clutching Morty's hand. Rick felt Morty’s body surge and pulse around him at the pleasure and Rick was blinded by the intensity, he hissed before steadying himself. Once he had regained his control he shuffled his hips and Morty responded like an instrument being played, he rotated his hips and Morty sang, he snapped up slightly in experimentation and that’s when Mory begged.

“Oh, please, Rick- i-i-i-it feels- _oh- ah!_ ” Rick watched Morty unravel and felt it as he was buried to the hilt. “Rick! Please!” Morty yelped.

Rick didn’t need asking again, he sat up and slipped his arms under Morty's and up the back of his shoulders, his own legs over the side of the cot feet firmly on the floor, for more control with his movements and they were closer this way. He preferred it, he could bask in the breath of Morty’s exclamations and slide across the sweat on his belly, Morty’s cock trapped between them gaining a little friction at every slight movement. Rick started slowly, gently coming up into him and out.

“ _Rick-”_ That sound, the way he chanted his name, went straight to Rick’s core. His gravelly tone escaped as he used Morty’s shoulders to firmly plant him down into his lap, every time he snapped his hips up and rolled himself out of Morty's body, the pace quickened. Morty leaned his head between Rick’s neck and shoulder and hugged him tightly for dear life, muffling his voice with Rick's flesh. Without noticing they had slowly inched near the end of the cot and Rick lost his balance. He clung tightly to Morty but they fell away from each other.

Both of them scrambled for the contact again. Rick had craned over Morty’s frame and with his hand scooped under Morty’s ass, lifted him and sunk back in with relative ease with the help of the slippery lubricant. Morty responded immediately, almost screaming.

“Are you alright, Morty?” Rick panicked for a second.

“There- there, there, oh- oh God- please, Rick-” Morty was almost incomprehensible as Rick had slid tortuously against his prostate and it had bloomed the building orgasm in the pit of Morty’s stomach, tingling his whole body.

Rick was immediately relieved and imitated his previous movement to ease Morty’s desperation, and the reaction was immediate, he was deliciously responsive and Rick had never known himself to be so obsessed with a partner’s pleasure. He built up his pace, Morty was drooling and completely losing himself in his grandpa’s all consuming actions. Rick was clutching onto the thin stitches of his own composure, his orgasm a threat, he held on as tight as he could and reached to touch Morty’s bobbing cock. As soon as he touched him there Morty fell apart at the seams, tensing and bursting at the same time, wave after wave, from a cold pleasant tingle from his toes and up to the warmth fluttering in his gut as he spilled everywhere, ribbons of his come littered his belly. Rick was entangled in Morty’s orgasm, it sprung his own on him, the tight grip of the body he was inside making his own orgasm crash through, wracking his nerves and draining him of anything other than his Morty, who was all he had, in his life in his body in his heart. The sound eventually came back to them, it was the remnants of their screams and the long shuddering panting as they came back. Rick fell beside Morty and gripped him in a tight embrace, Morty turned his head up to kiss Rick and they held their lips together to seal their promise.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_____

 

“Hey-hey, Morty?” Rick’s voice was hoarse, he cleared his throat.

“Y-yeah?” Morty blinked at the unusual uncertainty in Rick’s voice, it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Y’know, I uh- it- it’s stupid to say, cause, it goes without saying and y’know, not to change the tone to anything too cliche but hey, when else can I say it but after the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life? I just need you to know, how, y’know- how much you mean to me- what I’m tryna say is that, I-I-I love you, Morty.”

Morty felt like he was glowing as he was held tightly in Rick’s arms.

“I-I love you, too, Rick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to write an epilogue, I apologise if you thought this would be the end but I've been given the best idea and I really hope you'll all be into it. I couldn't do this without the support and inspiration of my beautiful friend's art work and writing to inspire me. Thank you Trashbagtatertots for all your help.


	9. Just You and Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a playlist to listen to while you read this, it's optional of course! Just a forewarning of some angst up ahead, I promise it will be worth it.
> 
>  
> 
> Here's a link to the playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLGYqJSFsupe5Ffbg3dpHLEJ2TpJodXxQ1

Morty traced the tendons and veins on the back of Rick's hand with his thumb, he'd memorised his grandfather's hands long ago. The texture of them, the way they touched his body, how they felt inside of him, most of all, the way they held him. Morty always appreciated Rick's hands. The countless stories they told with each callous and scar, he liked to worship them after the decades of abuse Rick put them through, kissing each pad, rolling the digits between his thumb and forefinger. Morty smiled every time he could see that small crinkle by Rick’s eye, it showed him that his grandpa acknowledged the small loving touches Morty bestowed upon them.

 

The young man swallowed thickly, the immovable lump in his throat had been there for a good few days now and it threatened to choke him out. He suppressed the sob with practiced ease as he watched Rick sleep peacefully. The relaxed features of Rick's face, usually lined with frowns, was relieving to see but strangely foreboding. He tried not to think about it even though each week it got harder, each day it became more strenuous and now, the minutes betrayed him. He found he couldn't just enjoy Rick's company without wanting to crumble first.

 

The years following Rick and Morty establishing their relationship was beyond any imagining. It was far from perfect but Morty decided that all the best things in life were far from it. Morty, now twenty five, had embraced the unusual companionship with Rick each day as it came, and if it was even possible, he loved Rick more now than he did when he was a starry eyed teenager. The roots of his grandfather had embedded into his very being. Deep, permanent evidence of their affection shone from him daily in even the menial tasks he did, like making them a pot of coffee in the swift movements Rick always used for his projects, Morty’s limbs now grown out and long, just like his grandfather's.

 

Morty was determined to memorise every feature his Rick held, and in particular, he eyed the thin white scar above Rick's eyebrow, the one he gained a few weeks after they moved into their flat together. Turns out bureaucrats don't respect Rick either. The slightly raised skin zig zagged through Rick’s brow, it was small but Morty always noticed it because it flipped a wave of sticky nostalgia in his belly, a potentially dark memory turned beautiful, the injury represented the beginning of them living together. Rick and Morty’s first flat. Morty found all the marks endearing, scars acquired from their adventures together told a story. A secret novel that only Morty was allowed to read of Rick Sanchez’s life, he often lay next to Rick and asked about each one. Even if he’d heard the story before, he liked to hear it again. His grandpa would sound irritated but Morty knew he never really minded sharing these things with him.

 

Morty made a point to never forget all these features, mapping them with his fingertips like braille, to treasure them. Each wrinkle, scar and pigment on Rick's skin were more beautiful to Morty than any nebulae. Rick always promised to show him the galaxies and more, but Morty found the universe in his grandfather. Rick murmured quietly and Morty hummed in response, raising his eyebrows in question.

 

“Stop staring at me, Morty. I can feel your eyes burning holes through me, here. I-I-I'm not gonna disappear on you or anything.” He kept his eyes closed as he spoke, his voice was husky and tired and Morty squeezed his hand in response, Rick acknowledged it with a slight grip back, Morty mentally kicked himself for even letting the word ‘weak’ cross his mind.

 

“Yeah, well, I wouldn't put it past you, Rick, y’know, you always have a trick up your sleeve.” Morty's voice had matured nicely, and the deeper baritone reminded Rick of his own before the gravel of smoking and drinking had altered it, but today, he had tones of his teenage dynamics, unsure with a hint of anxiety creeping below the surface.

 

“Not this time, buddy.” Rick smiled slightly, opening his eyes in time to watch a lone, fat teardrop roll silently down Morty's face. “Oh, baby, hey! Hey, c’mere-” Rick soothed, tugging Morty's hand slightly and encouraging his grandson to lean over and kiss him, and he did. The slot of their tender mouths was warm and familiar, a gesture that never, ever got old. Unlike Rick.

 

It turned out that it wasn't the technology that resulted in many failed attempts at going to a younger body, but the body would reject Rick's mind like a bad organ donation. Rick explained to Morty it was because the bodies he grew in the vats hadn't had the exercise or connections in their minds to comprehend Rick's thought processes, their brains were perfectly healthy and functional but not to host Rick's exponential intellect and all the other complicated emotions Rick's own brain was filled with. Finding a suitable host was near impossible, they had so many close calls to losing Rick's mind completely that they had to have a break from finding bodies for Rick to live in. Regardless of all that, they still used the helmets for fun. Morty was always able to switch bodies with Rick without any problems or complications and they had a lot of fun doing it again and again. Sex in your lover’s body was incredible and a new way of experimentation for Rick, eventually he even stopped letting Morty switch bodies with him. Once he started getting sick. He never wanted Morty to feel how his body was changing.

 

Gradually, Morty stopped asking to switch. It wasn't even about the sex, like Rick probably assumed. His ulterior motive was that he just wanted Rick to enjoy some time in his body, young and pain-free, a moment to breathe. The two stopped speaking about the helmets at all, any mention of it caused Rick so much annoyance and it was always directed at Morty, who suspected that Rick saw it as some sort of failure. In turn, Rick's silent fury always lead to distance, Morty couldn't afford to waste any days without his grandpa due to stupid arguments, so the helmets were completely ignored.

 

Rick was right. As always. He barely had ten years left in him and adventures had stopped a couple of years ago. When that happened, the scientist tried his hardest to chase Morty away from him. It was the only time their relationship was bad. Really bad. Morty felt the similar dread and horror that he had the time his own mother chose Summer over him in a life or death millisecond of a choice. Only, _this_ wasn't a millisecond, it was weeks of Rick berating him and distancing himself from his grandson. Morty knew it was his grandpa’s way of giving him the opportunity to chase the horizon of a new lease of life. Rick probably had a forked road pictured in his mind for Morty’s next step in life: the sunshine and rainbows path, with Morty having a normal younger partner, maybe even married them and had kids and grandkids of his own. The other path: dark and dreary, framed with the silhouettes of gnarled trees and at the end of it was his Morty, crying into the pillow as he lay in their empty bed with a hand over the indent in the mattress where the only trace of evidence lay that Rick used to be alive. 

 

He didn't want Morty to be alone, ever. Rick couldn't see an alternative for once he was gone, no matter how hard he tried to push Morty, the kid wouldn’t budge. He always stayed. Rick could chuckle at how the stubbornness was strong in his genes, how Morty wore it in the same self destructive way Rick always did, too. It was one particular day, Rick knew, with the fire behind Morty's eyes, that it was useless fighting him about it. He wasn’t going anywhere. His stupid, idiot, _loving_ grandson would never leave. He stayed with Rick through it all and apparently was seeing it through right to the end.

 

Rick tried not to think about when he inhabited Morty the first time, the invisibility of living in that boy, the transparency of his days. Without him being there to pull Morty by the wrist back to opacity, bringing the vibrancy back into his life with each beat of their racing hearts as they ran, Morty's existence was sheer isolation. The threat of loneliness for his beautiful grandkid was just waiting in the shadows behind his own eyelids, he tried not to close them too much or for too long, but he was tired, exhausted. Rick had been fighting for a long time now, longer than anyone probably could. The stubbornness in him wouldn't have it any differently. Morty knew it, too, and loved Rick all the more for it.

 

 

Rick never liked letting their kisses end, especially recently. He would have happily kissed Morty forever but he had to pull away when he felt a heavy droplet on his cheek.

 

 

 

“Morty…” Rick’s brow furrowed as he gently cupped Morty’s cheek.

 

 

 

The singular sob that left Morty's throat at how Rick called his name was so raw Rick could taste it, it was a sound that had been caged for so long it had practically burst from Morty's throat, his eyes and nose were leaking profusely with no consent from him at all.

 

 

 

“Rrrr- Rick--y-y-you _promised.”_ Morty exhaled sharply, like emptying his lungs would ease the pain in his chest.

 

 

 

“I know, I know I did. A-a-and I, I never wanted this for you, I never wanted to leave you like this, Morty, I'm sorry okay? It's okay, Morty, it's okay, baby, c’mon...” Rick hushed. Morty crawled into the bed carefully, letting his body rest beside Rick’s. He stared up at the blurry ceiling with his shining eyes and held Rick’s hand.

  


 

 

Rick finally let himself begin to fall asleep with the comforting weight of Morty beside him. He exhaled the longest, most relieving sigh as he relaxed into the loving embrace of his grandson. The world simmered away gently, all pains had numbed to leave him in peace, The only senses he had left was concentrated down to Morty’s emanating affection, and Rick Sanchez's last thought was how lucky he was to have Morty by his side.

  
  
  


 

 

“Rick?” Morty asked gently, and when Rick didn’t reply, he held his grandfather’s hand tighter and closed his eyes, letting the tears spill down the sides of his face.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

“I love you.” Morty’s voice was barely a whisper.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

__________________________

 

Rick startled awake, gasping and blinking rapidly. Everything was weird, off, something about it all was dream like. He felt fresh, bright and awake. Was he in Morty’s body? He looked down at his hands and his chest. No. They were his hands. Only, younger? He felt his hair, it was definitely thicker than he remembered. The last time he had hair like this was near the time he gigged with The Flesh Curtains, only it was shorter now.

 

“Am I fucking _dead?”_ Rick enquired aloud. Not like he ever gave the afterlife much thought. His voice was slightly different but definitely still held the bite he always had.

 

The room was white, plain and very boring in its domesticity. It wasn’t a hospital, it wasn’t even alien, it was a plain bedroom.

 

So, if he _was_ dead, and _this_ was the afterlife, one where he was conscious and aware of what was going on, where was the heaven or hell?

 

No burning pits of fire or queue of beautiful virgins?

 

Not like that was how he pictured heaven, if he had to entertain the concept. Heaven wouldn’t be worth it without Morty anyway, he thought, he’d rather have the blackness of a void than exist on some plane without his brown haired counterpart.

 

It couldn’t be nirvana because he definitely had a sense of self and a desire. A desire to take a shit. He stood up and held his stomach while wracking his mind. Could be limbo or purgatory? A waiting room, where he was gonna wait for fucking ever for a verdict of all the people that may or may not have died through the consequences of his actions. Ugh, if souls _do_ exist, he had a lot of fucking questions to answer for, Rick groaned at the concept.

 

He went to the singular door to find the bathroom, and his hand hovered on the handle. If this was the afterlife, he’d more likely have something bad than good. An idea crossed his mind that maybe, _maybe,_ this _was_ his hell and he was going to need a shit forever with no toilet. His thoughts were stunted as the door swung open to reveal Morty, holding his head in his hands, on the other side. Was it his Morty?

 

“Morty?” He asked.

 

Morty looked up quickly, and his eyes widened and he beamed. It radiated from Morty’s face, bright and welcome and ridiculously contagious.

 

“Rick! Y-you’re awake!” Morty leapt up and threw himself at Rick, Rick’s younger body was strong and managed to stay upright through the force of Morty’s embrace. He took a moment to collect himself before he hugged Morty back and confirmed that yes, this was definitely _his_ Morty. They hugged until their excitable breathing slowed and synced together, pulling away only a fraction to lock their mouths in a strong kiss. _Definitely_ his Morty, he hummed as he pulled away.

 

“Y-you wanna tell me what’s going on, Morty?” Rick asked, resting his forehead on Morty’s. “I might be dead after all, if you’re here-” _Because this would be my heaven, baby._ “Not that- I’m not complaining or anything.” He smiled again, it almost ached his cheeks like this body wasn’t used to being happy.

 

“I-I thought you were never going to wake up, Rick. Holy shit, you scared me.” Morty confessed, running his fingers through the blue hair, which was shorter than he was used to. Rick then took a look around and spotted the helmets in the corner of the room beside his portal gun. He frowned.

 

“Morty- how- who did you--?” Rick stepped back and looked again at the body he was in. “What Rick am I in?” Not like he gave a shit who he’d switched with, being alive and functional was amazing. He just knew that guilt sometimes ate Morty up inside, he wanted to at least console him that whatever asshole Rick it was probably deserved it.

 

“J-198.” Morty rubbed the back of his head nervously. “I- I mean… I tried my best to- y’know, find the best option for you. When I found him, he was about to… y’know.” Morty gestured his two fingers against his temple and grimaced.

 

Rick was thoroughly impressed that Morty had managed to pull this off, from how it looked, seamlessly. He was feeling more invigorated than he had in _years._ Maybe even decades.

 

Morty found Regular Rick by dumb luck and he thanked his lucky stars and whatever cosmic fate was in play for it.

 

Regular Rick was a poor, Mortyless bastard. He had gone so far off a tangent to most other Rick's that Morty had to make sure he actually _was_ a Rick. He certainly looked like one. This Rick was reasonably healthy looking, younger with shorter hair that was, thankfully to Morty, still wild and hard to tame. The guy's skin was smooth, it screamed desk-job but at least it coated the same lean body Morty had grown familiar with, just without the scars.

 

Another trick up Morty’s sleeve was he knew that J dimensions had pretty fucked up Jerrys, probably with the lack of a Beth to reign him in. No Diane, no Beth meant no infatuation with her, it created a chaotic nature in the Jerrys. Morty could understand personally, now he had Rick, how love could completely change a person. J-198 was a dimension where Jerry was CEO of the company Regular Rick worked for, and made all of his employee’s lives a living hell. To the point where he admitted to Morty that he contemplated shooting up the building. Morty explained to Regular Rick that, in his dimension, Jerry Smith was his father and nothing made his dad’s blood boil more than knowing his father-in-law was banging his son, Regular Rick was cackling as he leapt at the opportunity.

 

 _“Oh, really? Jerry, your dad? Holy shit, kid, I mean, fucking your grandkid is none of my business,” Regular Rick held his hands out in resignation for more details “But, I don’t give a shit so long as_ that _asshole is suffering for it, count me the fuck in.”_

 

In a borderline therapy session, Morty had enough knowledge to be convinced that this wasn’t a bad thing. Regular Rick had become everything he hated in life, a pencil-pushing borderline bureaucrat who fought against every instinct he had as a Rick.

 

This Rick had no Dianne. No Beth. No Morty. He hadn't taken any time for science, or even guitar. Morty could have written this Rick's biography if he wanted, with the amount of questions he asked. It would have been short, and definitely boring. Regular Rick didn't even drink that much, he couldn't afford to keep up with the average Sanchez alcoholism with his ordinary desk job. Regular Rick almost spat as he spoke about how he did it all to impress his father, followed in his footsteps and tried to exceed him after doing so terribly in school. None of it worked in the end. He had no family, an unimpressed, _disappointed_ parent that was the core for all of his decision making and nothing to show for any of it. The cherry on the cake, the definite deciding factor that made this Rick almost _excited_ to do it, was the Jerry situation.

 

This Rick was so far out of reach to his Rick that Morty didn’t even feel bad. The only time Regular Rick sounded like his own was the rant he yelled through his office as Morty went to pick him up.

 

_“Gary, your wife cheated on you with Ben. Ben, you need to stop eating, the volume that you chew makes everyone want to stab you. Brenda, you need to respect yourself a bit more, you're actually pretty good at your job and you don't need to blow our manager to move up the ladder. You're all lucky I haven't come in to end your fucking misery, apart from you Sarah, y-you're a fucking angel and you need to get the hell out of this shit show. Michael, remember the Christmas party last year? Fuuuuuck youuuuuuu.” Regular Rick punctuated all this with the peace among worlds gesture and everyone was left gobsmacked behind their desks before they could even respond._

 

“So, where is he now?” Rick asked, lip quirked curiously.

 

“Do you- do you remember when I broke my legs when we went to get those mega-seeds in dimension 35-C? When you left me in agony-” He narrowed his eyes playfully, it was an awfully long time ago, “I found it. I found the dimension you went to, to-to get that serum for my legs. Where people don’t age and are fascinated with old men? He’s there.”

 

Morty couldn’t suppress the giggle that came from him, it twitched the corner of his mouth and before he knew it he was howling with laughter. Rick joined in in its contagiousness, laughing so hard he was clutching his stomach, this body definitely wasn’t used to full body laughing. He grabbed Morty around the shoulders in another hug.

 

“I-I- I can’t believe you did all this, you lil jerk.” Rick buried his face in the crook of Morty’s neck and shoulder. He was so close to death that he felt like this was some miracle. A second chance at a life, a happy life, with Morty.

 

“Uh-huh, me either. I’m not a genius or anything but, y’know, at least I’m not a complete idiot.” Morty shrugged, trying his best to suppress the blush creeping up his neck at the warmth of Rick’s pride towards him.

 

“And guess what, _Morty?”_ Rick grinned mischievously, grabbing Morty by the chin and tilting it to him. Morty caught those crystalline eyes in his own, even though this Rick’s face was different, smoother and younger than what he was used to, Morty noted Rick’s familiar expressions and his aura. Like when Rick inhabited any body, it was him in every instance.

 

“What?” Morty asked, chuckling as Rick suddenly tugged him by the wrist like he was a teenager again and watching the scientist sweep up his portal gun and fire it into the corner of the room. Rick turned to look at Morty over his shoulder.

 

Morty held his breath as it was taken away from him. It was a sight he never thought he would see again. It glistened the tears frozen in corner of Morty’s eyes, he hadn’t seen this in years and almost forgot what it looked like. It was the vibrant green glow of the portal highlighting Rick’s features, his smile, the creases below his eyes, altering the hue on the edges of Rick's blue hair. It all swirled into the adrenaline that picked up in Morty's blood and his heart jumped with excitement.

 

“We’ve got a- a lotta research to catch up on, Morty, I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't have done this fic without the constant inspiration and assistance from my good friend trashbagtatertots. Thank you for all you've done for me.
> 
> Thank you to every single comment on this fic you have no idea how much it means, it helps continue my creative spark and motivates me to write. 
> 
> If you have any questions, suggestions or prompts you can find me on Tumblr! definitelygoingtohell.tumblr.com


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